Fire Dancer
by Seph7
Summary: Post-Time's Convert. Witches loyal to Peter Knox are still intent on find out what secrets Diana Bishop and those close to her are hiding in regards to the Book of Life. Unknown to Diana, Emily had spoken to fellow Seers about things she'd seen for the future of all Creatures, and after Peter Knox's death, those loyal to his cause are rallying. Baldwin/OC pairing.
1. Stoking the Embers

**Fire Dancer**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Stoking the Embers**

She had no idea how long she'd been kept away from the light, her magic bound, and several bones broken... Weeks, or months, she couldn't figure it out. Remaining alive for as long as she could was her only concern. No matter what torture her fellow witch captors came up with, she gave nothing away. She'd been eternally grateful for her older sister teaching her how to bind her secrets to herself, so that no one could pull them from her by force, not even in death.

Whatever secrets they thought she possessed, they seemed intent on discovering them. The room... cell... dungeon... wherever she was, was dark, cold, and smelled of rot and damp. Underground no doubt. She couldn't even distinguish if she was even in the same country.

She felt stupid for not knowing that something like this could happen... Witch on witch violence was considered a rarity. She'd heard of the troubles between the Congregation witches and an American witch who found The Book of Life, and got involved with a vampire. Witches had been killed, as had many vampires. But, the Covenant forbidding interspecies mating had been lifted, and it was assumed that all was now well within the creature community. Unfortunately, not all creatures felt that the abandonment of the Covenant was a good thing.

Athena lived in Cheshunt, and travelled daily to the city of London to take dance classes. She was the anomaly in her family. The only witch with no pre-cognitive abilities. Her mother and sister had both been born with powerful seer abilities, and regularly practiced their craft together. Athena rarely got a look in, and had to rely on her father for encouragement, which, given that he was an average human, meant she was learning her craft alone. Still, he had always made time for her when she wanted to practice spells, or work with fire. He was aa calming influence on her, and she'd found his demeanour helped her control her temper.

Witches usually felt when other creatures were around, but Athena had missed the tell tale signs on her way to her evening class. She'd been darted and dropped to the floor unconscious before she could even discern what had happened. Everything after that had been a painful and disorientating blur. When magic hadn't worked to learn her secrets, physical torture had been employed. She'd been suspended by her wrists and whipped, beaten to a bloody pulp, had every finger on her left hand snapped one by one, and had both of her ankles shattered so that she couldn't escape. Just to make matters worse, she'd been spellbound. Magic wasn't going to save her. Curled up in a crumpled heap in the corner, all she could think about was how to keep breathing...

Witch disappearances weren't usually his business, especially now that the Congregation was Diana's problem. Unfortunately for him, his tracking abilities were second to none, and Diana had contacted him to recruit his 'warrior' persona. He'd wanted to refuse... The Covenant might have been removed, but he had no desire to seek out witches. But, he knew he'd never hear the end of it, and he was certain that Diana would find some way of making him pay for it in some not so subtle way in the near future.

As it was, he'd taken his private jet to London to meet with Marcus and Diana and discuss options. With her unlimited witch resources, Diana had ascertained exactly where the two witches had been abducted from. It had been more than a month since either had been seen, and the trail of scent had long since dissipated. He might not be able to smell where the witches might have been take to, but as a keen strategist, he could ascertain how they had been taken. The street was like many other side streets in London. Occasionally busy with people passing through. Tall buildings, some modern, some gothic. Lots of windows. He looked up at each building. It would be so easy to shoot someone from any number of windows. Even a drive-by wouldn't be completely out of the question. A delivery van could be used to bundle a victim inside in no time at all.

"Drugged," he stated to no one in particular. Diana looked at him curiously.

"How do you know that?" she asked, looking between him and Marcus.

"That's how he'd do it..." Marcus muttered, looking around at the nondescript side street.

Baldwin shot him a fierce glare before speaking again. "Think about it; how would you take on a witch? Someone who would know how to protect themselves? A creature couldn't get close enough to physically overpower them without being noticed. We all feel when another creature is close. The only way to catch a witch off guard would be to tranquilise them from afar. Possibly from up high. Have a van waiting to carry them off. No mess, no fuss."

Diana felt uneasy. When Satu had taken her, she'd done so using only magic. The thought that creatures might be using human methods to abduct other creatures was something she hadn't even considered. She pulled on her trusty cords, as well as using the knowledge from the book flowing through her veins to answer her question... There were a lot of places in London where someone could be held. But, even as Diana was searching through the possibilities, the book answering each internal question in turn, Baldwin, who knew every major city in the world like the back of his hand, had already ruled out a great number of possibilities himself.

"It wouldn't be somewhere quiet. But it would be abandoned to every day human use." He was slowly pacing, tapping a finger against his lip. "The underground system. Abandoned tracks. There must be dozens of tunnels no longer in use. They'd be dark and enclosed, and with enough foreign scent that they couldn't be easily sniffed out."

Diana was staring at him. She had to admit, albeit internally, that his reputation for strategic tracking was proving to be accurate. According to Matthew, Baldwin had been the one to help find her when Satu had thrown her into the Oubliette. It honestly amazed her. Baldwin had been able to do faster with his vampiric senses and experience, than Diana could do with all her weavers powers and the Book of Life.

"I have some Knights standing by, should we need them," Marcus stated, looking for the go ahead from Baldwin.

"We'll look alone for now... We have no idea how many are guarding the witches. It could be one, or it could be several dozen. Once we know where and how many, we'll decide how best to rescue whoever is left to rescue." He turned to Diana, who was still fiddling with her fingers, deep in concentration. "There may be no one left to find. How long did the mother say they'd been missing?"

"Just over three weeks. It worried me that she only seemed concerned about one of her daughters. The woman is a seer, and I worry that she's seen something she didn't want to tell me," Diana replied.

"Would you want to think about the possibility that one of your children has been murdered?" Baldwin asked. Diana shuddered and shook her head. It didn't bear thinking about.

"So, what's our first move?" Marcus asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was eager to get going. He was never one to wait around, but even more so, he wanted to get back to America, and his new wife, Phoebe.

"Aldwych Station." Baldwin stated. Diana and Marcus exchanged a confused look. "Out of all the disused stations, Aldwych is the only obvious station that hasn't had investors turn it into something else. It's perfectly placed, because no other line in use goes through there. Temple Station runs right above it, but doesn't interfere with the infrastructure. It's a perfect hiding place. No tours, no trains, no workmen."

"So, I assume you know how we get there?" Diana asked, but Baldwin had already called for his car and was striding out onto the main street.

The car was parked up within minutes, and soon after, they were on their way into the heart of central London. The station entrance was like most others. Slotted in between two businesses, and the doors locked, Baldwin snapped the padlock easily. He looked around to ensure they weren't seen, and instructed Diana to check for wards, as well as work some magic to silence their approach. Marcus was already using his nose to sniff through the gate.

"I can't smell vampires... I doubt it would be daemons," Marcus observed.

Diana nodded to Baldwin. "There were wards. Mostly to turn away human eyes." She shook her head in disgust. "Witches abducting witches again, as though we don't have enough to worry about from human persecution..."

"That's the least of our worries right now. We don't know which witches have them." With one last look around, he slipped through the partially open gate, instructing Marcus to close it behind them.

Diana walked between the two vampires, her vision not as keen, though her witch's eye was helping to guide her... She couldn't yet sense the presence of any witches, but the stairs they were taking were old and dusty, littered with broken tiles and discarded rubbish that had never been cleaned up. The place smelled of mould and damp, and the temperature dropped with each step they took.

Once they'd reached the old barriers that lead down to the platform itself, both Baldwin and Marcus stopped and inhaled.

"I can smell death... Something is beginning to rot... Something bigger than rats," Marcus said, looking towards the tracks. Baldwin nodded in agreement.

"I don't hold out much hope, Diana," he replied, looking at her soberly.

"I know, but we have to try. Even if all we bring back are corpses, at least she'll have something to bury." Diana floated down to the tracks, waiting for Marcus and Baldwin to direct which way the smell was coming from.

The scent took them down the tracks for almost a quarter of a mile before it strengthened to their left. Baldwin used his shoulder to shove open an old utility door with a precisely timed thud, waiting for a passing train to go overhead. Once inside, it lead to a small series of corridors. The two vampires paused when they heard the familiar thrum of heartbeats. Three of them, separate from Diana's.

"Witches... Three of them... Two stronger than the other..." Baldwin whispered, his keen eyes looking into the darkness.

Diana tried to see what he was looking for... Her witch's eye could see the faint glimmer of the other witches, two of which were bright with life and health. Both glowing green as they moved around inside a small room. When she focused on the room itself, she could see the third witch. The glimmer was faint, but a most beautiful sunset orange. She was certain this was one of the abducted witches. She searched for any glimmer of another captured witch, but found none. She put a hand on the wall to her right. It was cold and damp, and unprotected by wards. If they were quiet, they could sneak upon the green witches.

"I can see them... Three of them. Two in green. They're watching a third. I can't find a fourth. You might be right about finding them both. Maybe they're not both here..." Diana whispered back.

She floated down the cramped corridor towards the green shimmer, feeling Baldwin and Marcus stepping eerily quietly behind her. As soon as she rounded the corner and saw them with her actual eyes, she put them in a binding knot. Baldwin and Marcus moved so quickly, she barely had time to register the snap of each neck, causing her knot to fall at her feet and disappear. Then, in the darkest corner of the cold room, she saw the sunset witch.

The witch looked slowly up through her dirty hair, surprised to see two vampires looking at her with concern, and a witch glowing in the most brilliant white light. She'd been curled on her right side, finding it a struggle to sit up as both of her ankles were still broken and sat at odd angles. She'd taken comfort in the pain, knowing at least that her nerves weren't severed. Her left hand was curled against her chest, her fingers in an equally terrible state.

Baldwin removed his thick coat and moved closer. She was in desperate need of a bath and serious medical attention. He could see her left cheek was swollen to twice the size of the right, old bruising healing under newer injuries. He couldn't see them, but he suspected she had a few broken ribs when she winced as she tried to sit a little more upright.

"Is there anyone else here with you?" he asked quietly, his amber eyes holding her sea green ones in focus as he wrapped his coat around her shoulders.

She nodded in response, her eyes dropping down. "Dead."

Diana let out a soft sigh. She didn't relish having to tell a mother that one of her children hadn't survived.

"Baldwin, we need to get her out of here."

The witch looked back at the man called Baldwin as he gently slipped an arm around her back, the other hooking under her knees. She used the only limb still intact to grasp around his neck, whining in pain as her ankles hung uselessly, even as Baldwin tried to move as gently as possible.

"I'll call the hospital and let them know we're on our way," Marcus said, pulling out his phone.

"No. We'll take her to Sept-Tours. If witches come looking for her, they won't cross vampire land." He gave Diana a pointed look, reminding her of exactly why Matthew had done the same when Peter Knox had come after her. "I have a jet waiting at Heathrow. It won't lake long. Call Matthew and have him meet us at Charles de Gaulle."

Diana was about to protest, but Baldwin was already making his way out of the corridor and back onto the tracks. She sighed. He was nothing if not precise in his ordering around. He might have mellowed some over the past few years, but he would always be a commander.

She and Marcus followed him out, Marcus calling off the Knights and then calling Phoebe to let her know how things went. Diana did as Baldwin had said and called Matthew. He'd been as surprised as Baldwin was at finding a survivor. Almost a month of slow torture, both magical and physical, could easily have killed her. How her sister had died was yet to be investigated, but the primary concern was to ensure she would live.


	2. Adding the Fuel

**Chapter 2**

 **Adding the Fuel**

Daylight seared through her pupils like a laser beam. She gasped in pain and turned her face towards the broad shoulder of the copper-haired burly vampire currently carrying her out of wherever she'd been held captive. Light had become a distant memory, and her eyes had gotten used to the blackness. No longer looking at what was happening, all she could feel was the gentle jostling of her limbs as the strong body folded underneath her, a car door slamming shut, and the rumbling purr of an engine starting up. The heavy coat around her shoulders was the warmest thing she'd felt in weeks, and the smooth ride of the car soon lulled her to sleep, exhaustion finally overwhelming her.

Baldwin had felt her breathing and heart rate slow, needing to look down to make sure she wasn't crashing. Fortunately, she'd simply fallen asleep. He was grateful. He'd toyed with the idea of anaesthetising her with his blood, as vampire blood was well known amongst warmbloods for its ability to control them. As it was, he didn't think she'd appreciate being drugged again, given her trauma.

Soon, they were boarding the jet, with Marcus separating from them to arrange for the Knights to conduct a thorough search of the abandoned station. Whilst the witches they'd killed wouldn't likely be found by the general public, any other witches coming back to check on their captive would soon be alerted, if they came back at all.

Thankfully, the flight across the channel was short and free from turbulence. Athena had slept the entire way, unaware of the movements and transfers between the jet and Matthew's car. Baldwin had rolled his eyes as Diana embraced his brother.

"Christ, it's only been a few hours. Can we focus, please?" Baldwin barked, sliding into the back seat of Matthew's Tesla.

Upon arriving at Sept-Tours, Baldwin had carried her straight in, taking her up the many staircases and into what was previously Louisa's tower. He'd set her down as gently as possible in the bed, and by now she'd woken from the coldness of the room, and the chill of the crisp sheets against her back. Matthew was already lighting the fire as Diana was working through the injuries she could heal with magic.

"I'm sorry, but the spells I can create to heal the bones will hurt. Do you want me to wait until you're stronger?" she asked.

"No... do it now... get it over with..." Athena whispered, wincing at the light streaming through the window.

Baldwin moved to shut the curtains, then turned back to watch, secretly fascinated by how bones could so easily be fixed.

Diana got to work, starting with the broken fingers. Each one cracked back into place, causing Athena to whine with each snap, her right hand gripping the sheets. She cried out when the last finger snapped back, and Diana smoothed her hand over it.

"I'm sorry, but they should be okay now. They might be a little stiff for a while. Are you sure you want me to do your ankles?" She bit her lip in concern, her fingers tingling with the right combination of magic to do just that.

Athena took in a breath and nodded.

Diana looked at Baldwin. "Come hold her hands... It's not like she can hurt you by squeezing them too tightly..."

Baldwin looked surprised by the request. He was not the hand holding type. But, given he'd carried her the entire way from London to Sept-Tours, a little hand holding wasn't exactly going to compare.

He moved to sit on the side of the bed, reaching over to let her clasp his hands. They were almost as cold as his own were, and the grip was surprisingly strong, given her weakened state.

Diana performed her unique magic, realigning each bone in her ankle, and repairing those that had been shattered. Athena cried out at each change, her nails digging in to Baldwin's skin as she fought to keep still. By the second ankle, she was clawing at his arm, her head turned away as her eyes streamed. When Diana was done, Athena was shaking, her fingers locked around Baldwin's arm. It took some coaxing to get her to release her grip without hurting her further, but she eventually relaxed.

Diana was making a last check for injuries she could fix, when she gasped. "You're spellbound?"

Athena nodded.

"I can fix that..." Diana replied, lifting her fingers.

"Don't."

"Why not? I can do it in a few seconds."

"Not yet. I don't have the strength to control it yet," she implored.

Baldwin looked at Matthew, who was equally as stunned at the request. It was also remarkably brave to leave herself in such a vulnerable position in the company of strangers. A trait to be admired.

"We should leave you to rest. Marthe can bring you some food and drink to help you build your strength. If you call, we'll hear you. You have nothing to fear from us. Witches won't set foot here," Matthew said softly, taking Diana's hand and leading her out.

She'd been covered with sheets, but she still had Baldwin's coat underneath her. He looked at her one last time, and inclined his head to her, shutting the door behind him as he left.

She turned her head into the coat underneath her, and was instantly hit by the scent of bonfire and leather, followed by the earthy scent of sandalwood and bergamot... It was warm and comforting, and she tried to brush her nose against it to take away the scent of dirt and goddess knows what else she smelled of. She couldn't even begin to imagine just how much she must have stunk to the vampires, but neither of them had said a word or given any indication of it. She gently dozed off, exhaustion still gripping her tightly.

In the sitting room, Baldwin was leaning against the mantle, his arms folded across his barrel chest. "So, what do we know about her?" he asked.  
"Not much. She's active with the London coven. They contacted me after her mother had called them looking for her daughters. They told me she lives alone, she takes dance classes and performs with a local dance group regularly. She's just an average witch, according to them. She's no weaver. I'd have known it, spellbound or not. Whatever they took her for, it was for something else. Besides, Benjamin is dead, so we don't have to worry about that business anymore..."

"The question remains, why she was taken. And why she survived. If they killed her sister, why didn't they kill her? What do they think she knows? Or are they after her power? Can a witch's powers be stolen?"

"I've never heard of it happening, but that doesn't mean it can't be done," Diana replied, the question making her arms tingle, as the book within her attempted to answer, with no definitive conclusion. "She survived weeks of torture and starvation. I was only missing for a matter of hours and at one point I was ready to die... How do you make the decision to live when there's no hope?"

Baldwin silently agreed regarding the woman's innate strength and will to live. Looking into her eyes, he'd seen a small measure of anxiety, which was understandable, but very little fear. Despite her injuries and her malnutrition, there was a fierceness to her. Without such willpower, he strongly believed that they would have found two corpses.

"What of the sister? Has her been recovered?" he asked, looking at Matthew.

"I've asked Marcus to go back and retrieve what he can find. It's fortunate that the only other bodies will be the ones you each killed. Whatever is left will be her sister." He looked to Diana, "Have you told her mother that Athena is here?"

She shook her head. "No. I think it should wait until we have the body." In truth, she had no idea how she would even broach such a thing.

Baldwin had been right. How could she even imagine what losing a child must be like? Matthew had been through it, and for a time, it had been enough to make him consider never having children again.

Athena was startled awake by the rattling of a tray. When she opened her eyes, she could see a kindly woman smiling at her as she brought over some water.

"I am Marthe. I brought you some tea and toast with just a little butter. Something easy on your stomach," she said, setting down the glass of water. "Let me help you sit up a little."

Her hands were surprisingly gentle, much as Baldwin's had been. The grip firm enough to ensure security, without so much as pressing against a bruise as she effortlessly lifted Athena and arrange some pillows behind her.

"Thank you," Athena croaked.

The glass of water was handed to her, and she had to grip it with both hands to keep it from spilling. Her left had was stiff from Diana's healing, but she was grateful to be able to move her fingers at all and not have them hurt. She sipped from the glass and the crisp, clean water was the best thing she'd tasted on her tongue for what felt like months. The only water she'd been able to have was from the pools of damp and condensation that had gathered where she'd been kept.

Once she'd had her fill of the water, Marthe sat and waited for her to try the toast. She only managed a single slice before her stomach started to churn, but it was better than the intense hunger she'd gotten used to. Fortunately, the peppermint tea Marthe had made, fresh from the garden, helped to ease things.

"You managed more than I thought you might!" she exclaimed as she put the tea and toast back on the tray. "Perhaps some light broth later, if you feel hungry?"

Athena smiled tiredly and nodded. What she really wanted was a hot bath. She silently vowed that as soon as she felt strong enough to stand, she would go searching for a tub in this place, just so she could scrub her skin clean of the grim still clinging to her.

Marthe muttered something in French, and left her to rest, only partially closing the door. Baldwin was waiting further down the corridor.

"How is she?"

"She is alive. Remarkably so. She ate a little," Marthe replied, looking back at the door.

Baldwin nodded thoughtfully, listening to the steady heartbeat. She'd fallen asleep again. It wasn't so surprising. Her scent most certainly was. Of course, he'd smelled just how dirty she was, but despite that, he could smell her. Rosemary, blackberries, and the deepest notes of a midnight rose. Such strong scents. Formidable. Survivors.


	3. Wood Fires and Saddle Leather

**Chapter 3**

 **Wood Fires and Saddle Leather**

The next 24 hours were spent in a haze of sleeping, eating, and drinking as much water and peppermint tea as her stomach to handle. With no broken bones to worry about, all she could think about was a bath. Her back was sore from lying on the various wounds she'd received, half of which she couldn't tell apart. Her bruises were still in various stages of healing. She smelled like crap, itched like crazy, and even the comforting smell of Baldwin's coat couldn't alleviate it. But, worst of all, she really needed to pee.

She tossed the sheets aside, shivering slightly as the cooler air hit her sensitive skin, and gritted her teeth as she swung her legs out of the bed, placing her feet flat on the floorboards. She rotated her ankles around, testing the movement, then attempted to stand. It was largely successful, but she wobbled as she tried to take a few steps, flinging her arms out to grab the bedpost. The last thing she wanted was to be found sprawled across the cold floor. She'd had enough of being rescued, as much as she'd appreciated it.

Finding her feet again, she moved slowly and methodically to the door off to the right, hoping it lead to a bathroom. She let out a sigh of relief when she opened the door, tottering over to the toilet and making a pig's ear of pulling her knickers down whilst holding on to the sink, sighing as she relieved her bladder. Step one complete.

Step two, run the bath without falling into the tub and scalding herself, and remove her tattered vest without toppling onto the floor. The tub was easier to run once she'd gotten the plug in the hole. The vest, not so much. She was still struggling with the grip of her left hand, and every time she tried to pull it over her head, the edge slipped out of her fingers.

"For fuck sake!" she exclaimed.

Baldwin heard the expletive as he came through the bedroom door. He'd been given a tray by Marthe, despite his protestations, and was surprised to see the bed empty. Before she had a chance to swear again, he'd already tracked her scent to the bathroom. He set the tray down and went to investigate, just as Athena did exactly what she was afraid of. She toppled like a domino, with her vest halfway around her head.

Baldwin caught her easily enough, pulling the top away from her head. He stood her upright, his eyes examining her body, rather surprised by just how battered she was. Her back was laced with thin, angry stripes in various stages of healing, much like the rest of her. Whip marks. He recognised them.

"How many times did they whip you?" he asked, turning her to look at her face.

She met his eyes, holding on to his arm for support, "I lost count. The ankles hurt more."

Baldwin inclined his head, then looked at the running water.

"You don't think such exertion is a little soon? It's barely been 48 hours."

She glared at him, fierce defiance dancing wildly in her eyes, "I fucking stink! I might not be a vampire, but even I can smell me!"

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips. He was sure she'd smelled better. He also knew he'd smelled much worse over the centuries before modern hygiene practices and fresh water plumbing.

"Well, be that as it may, I doubt Marthe would be too impressed if I left you to crack your skull open."

He held her arms as she moved to place on foot in the bath, followed by the other, helping her to sit down before leaving her to wash. Propriety had gone right out of the window, but she was grateful to be able to relax in the warmth of fresh water alone, rotating her ankles again, hoping the heat would loosen them.

She reached for the soap and cursed again as her left hand lost its grip. She hated not being able to control her own limbs, and the multitude of swear words that left her lips as she rummaged around the bottom of the tub for the slippery item, had Baldwin chuckling from the bedroom. Athena ignored it and finally gripped the soap with he nails, not caring about the state it would be in when she finished. She lifted it to her nose and smelled it, wondering if it smelled of sandalwood. It didn't. French Lavender. The sandalwood had been him, along with something smoky that reminded her of bonfire night, and faint touch of polished leather. She was suddenly craving treacle toffee, and had to shake her head to focus on scrubbing the stink from her skin.

As she scrubbed herself raw, Baldwin busied himself with stripping the bed of the now dirty sheets, reaching for his coat that was partially crumpled under where her back had been resting. Picking it up, he could smell both the dirt and her permeating the fabric. It would need dry-cleaning. He didn't need the distraction of her scent on it, and the dirt would soon fester. He hung it up on the back of the door and went to ask Marthe for clean bedding.

Athena washed her hair twice, grimacing at the grime that had now stained the rim of the tub. But, she was clean finally, and feeling as though some weight had been lifted from her from the trauma. Now came step three; getting out of the tub. She didn't want to ask Baldwin again, so she pulled herself to sit on the rim, manoeuvring one leg out onto the bathroom floor, followed by the other. She leant forward to grip the sink and pulled herself upright, looking for a towel. She sighed in gratitude at the crisp, white towel hanging on the radiator, and tested the strength of her ankles again to retrieve it, wrapping it tightly around herself. She had no clothing, and refused to put on her dirty knickers, so sleeping in the towel would have to do.

She ran her fingers through her wet blonde hair, then looked around for something to brush her teeth with. There was toothpaste, but no brush. She resorted to using her finger, which was far messier than she'd intended it to be, managing to smear it across her chin. She wiped herself clean on the edge of her towel, and went back out into the bedroom, frowning as Baldwin was making her bed.

Before she could ask him why, he'd turned to see her standing in nothing but the towel. She had a hand on the top of the towel near her breast and the other braced against the wall. Now that she'd had the grime removed from her skin, he could smell that he'd been wrong. Not blackberries, but black cherries. That deep summer sweetness that had been soured by trauma. He swallowed thickly, suddenly thirsty for wine. At least, that was what he told himself.

"You should get back in bed. It's clean now," he said, moving to help her.

"You didn't have to do that," she replied, waving at the bed.

"I know. I needed my coat back," he lied. It tasted bitter, but he smiled ruefully anyway.

He let her take his arm, watching each step she took back to the bed. He found it remarkable that she was even on her feet. The resiliency of warmbloods could always surprise him, even though he worked around them daily. Mostly, they annoyed him. Not for their frailty, but for their lack of grace. The way they stumbled through life, making endless mistakes over and over. He found it curious when he came across one who had the strength to rival a vampire. He was curious about Athena.

She slipped back into bed, keeping the towel around herself as he propped pillows behind her so he could lay the tray on her lap. The swelling in her cheek was still there, but the bruising was going through the usual colour changes as it healed. She was fortunate not to have a broken cheek bone, and he noted how her eyes had flashed at his earlier lie. That same defiance. He was starting to understand why the witches hadn't been able to do more than break bone.

Just as he was about to leave her to eat, she asked him a question he didn't think he could answer.

"Where is my sister?"

Baldwin looked back at her, gold momentarily flashing in his amber eyes. "I'm not sure. We can have her body retrieved. For you and your mother."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Had he been human, he would have missed it. Curious. A mother who hadn't asked after her, and a daughter who hadn't asked for her mother. Her turned and left, taking the dirty sheets downstairs and handing them off to Marthe.

"Has she eaten?" the older woman asked.

"I've given her some broth and toast. She was trying to take a bath."

"She could have cracked her head open!" Marthe exclaimed, moving to go check on her.

Baldwin grabbed her arm. "She's fine. She's clean and back in bed. I might be a lot of things to you, Marthe, but I'm not about to help rescue a woman, to then later kill her."

Diana wandered in, her phone in her hand. She looked mildly distressed. "I called her mother. Told her what we found." She frowned and looked at Baldwin. "She asked me how her daughter died... I tried to tell her Athena was here, and she was recovering, but she just kept asking about the dead one... Do you think it's shock?"

Baldwin was starting to have suspicions about Athena's relationship with her mother, but he'd rather save judgements for when Athena herself told them. If she ever did. As it was, the faint scent of her skin was lingering on his arm, distracting him. He left without a word, deciding a hunt would do him good. Cold blood wouldn't do right now. He needed to get his mouth around something living. He might not have Matthew's blood rage, but he still felt the same cravings all vampires did when they were due a feeding. He only wished he could hunt a carnivore here. A mountain lion would settle his palette, and stop him thinking about the unusual witch sleeping in his dead sister's room.


	4. The Flames of War

**Chapter 4**

 **The Flames of War**

He ran for miles, leaving Sept-Tours land completely, and tracking animals in the open wilderness. Foxes, rabbits, and game birds scattered around him, but he wanted something bigger. Something he could really run down. He spotted several does, but given the season, he knew Marthe wouldn't be happy with him hunting down females with young. Besides, a stag would be far more satisfying. Where females roamed, males wouldn't be far behind.

His keen nose soon smelled the pheromones, eyeing a tiny shape in the distance with pronounced antlers. He was upon the stag, facing it down as it assessed whether Baldwin was a genuine threat or not. Baldwin grinned. He could smell the heightened testosterone in the stag. Fight or flight. He enjoyed a fight. Anger tasted better than fear.

The stag lowered its head and scraped the ground with its hoof, snorting and eyeballing Baldwin. On the second hoof scrape, Baldwin ran at the stag, the stag leaping forward to do the same. It barely got three steps before Baldwin had his hand on its antlers, leaping over it like a gymnast and twisting to snap its neck, his mouth on its skin before its legs crumpled. He growled as the warmth of its blood flooded his tongue, invigorated by the rush and quickly draining it.

He dropped the antlers and stood up, wiping his lips clean. He then picked up the dead stag and slung it over his broad shoulders, carrying it back to Sept-Tours. Even vampires liked wild venison, and with warmbloods now in the house, it wouldn't go to waste.

Marthe was surprised by the delivery, but sensing Baldwin's invigorated constitution, she smiled. She hadn't expected him to remain for so long. Domestic situations were never his forte. They only ever saw him at family gatherings or family squabbles. He was too involved with his work for social requirements. But, this time, his curiosity was keeping him around. The changes in him were still remarkable to everyone. From accepting a witch as a sister, to doting on his niece and nephew with witch heritage, to rescuing a witch from her own kind. Twice. Even so, Marthe knew he would always be a short-tempered control freak. Just like Phillippe had been. However, it seemed once in a while, you really could teach an old dog new tricks.

The next few days passed in a similar fashion. Athena spent them sleeping and eating, and venturing to the bathroom to wash. She'd remarked to Marthe that she had no clothing one morning before bathing, and upon returning to the bed, several shirts and trousers had been laid out on the bed for her. It felt good to dress, to regain a small measure of normalcy, even if the clothing wasn't hers.

She hadn't seen much of Baldwin since that morning, and thought he'd returned to whatever life he'd left in order to rescue her. As it was, he spent most of his time in Phillippe's office, tending to his business. He spent endless amounts of time churning out emails and reports, scouring through financial papers, and phone calls to various businesses across the globe. One close subordinate had dared to ask him when he would be returning to New York, as meetings had been put off many times, and they were in danger of losing deals. Baldwin was incensed at the question, more so because he couldn't answer it. Now that Athena was gaining strength and mobility, he had no real reason to stay. Marthe was doing all the running around for her, and Diana would return almost daily from Les Revenants to check on her and give her a witch's ear should she need it. He'd threatened to fire the employee if he dared to question him again.

He'd just slammed the phone down when Athena's scent disturbed him. This far from Louisa's tower, he shouldn't have been able to smell her so strongly, but when he looked up he realised why. She was standing outside of the door. He could see her shadow under the gap.

He got up to open the door, looking at her in confusion. "Are you well?"

"Oh! Uh... Yes." She was looking around, her confusion matching his. "I think I'm lost. I didn't realise how big this place was. I still don't know where I am really," she replied, looking at him.

"I can show you the way back to your room," he offered.

"No. No, I need to stretch my legs and look at something other than those same four walls." She looked at him, a momentary flash of panic crossing her eyes at the prospect of being confined again, despite the help she'd been given.

Baldwin understood. He outstretched his hand to indicate which way to go, following her closely should she take a turn.

"So, where exactly am I?" she asked.

"Sept-Tours," he replied cryptically.

"Sounds French..."

"It is. You're in France."

She stopped and looked at him, surprise in her eyes. "But... How? I didn't exactly have my passport shoved up my arse."

He fought the grin that threatened to break out across his lips. "You can thank Diana for that. A spell of some sort, I believe."

"I'm losing track of time. How long have I been here?"

"Six days."

He led her into the parlour, where Ysabeau was sitting at the table. The place looked ancient. An enormous fireplace was blazing away, and an old phonogram was playing. The place had electricity, but they still had numerous candelabras dotted around the large room.

The graceful blonde stood to greet them. " I am Ysabeau. I hope you're feeling rested?"

"I am, thanks. This is your home?"

"It is de Clermont property. That is the name we go by." Her eyes flicked to Baldwin so fast, Athena missed it.

Ever the keen watcher, she saw how Baldwin's eyes rarely left the tall witch beside him. They were full of questions and intrigue, the gold specks almost dancing in the light.

Marthe disturbed the moment by bringing in tea for Athena, and wine for everyone else.

"Please, sit," Ysabeau indicated a chair at the table, pulling it out for her before Baldwin could do so, smirking as his eyes flashed in irritation.

Athena sat, glad to take the weight off her feet. Her ankles were stronger now, but they ached from disuse. She smiled and clasped the hot tea in her hands. It felt strange to be drawn to the warmth of the cup. She'd never had issues with coldness before this.

She turned her head towards the doorway when she heard footsteps. Diana and Matthew had arrived, with Matthew carrying a large bag. He placed it on the chair beside her and smiled.

"My son Marcus took the liberty of bringing some things from your home. I hope you don't mind," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

"Oh, thanks. How did you know where I lived?"

"You mother was very forthcoming with details of your sister. She said you lived with her."

Athena looked at the bag, reaching down to unzip it and rummage through. She grinned when she put her hand on her passport. Clever vampire. But it fell when she touched the pendant that had been slipped into the pocket of a shirt. She pulled it out and took a deep breath, holding it in her hand.

"How did you know this was mine?" she whispered.

"Your scent."

"What is it?" Diana asked, craning her head to look.

Athena held it out, the pendant dropping loose on the chain. It was a replica of the Owl of Athena tetradrachm, complete with the letters AOE, and an ancient Greek depiction of the Goddess herself on the other side.

"A tetradrachm! I've seen these in museums," Diana exclaimed.

"My sister had it made for me for my 21st." She smiled sadly.

"Athena, how did they even get hold of you both?" Diana asked.

Athena took another deep breath. "I was on my way to a recital, and Della was supposed to meet me on the way. We'd just rounded the corner to the side entrance. She liked to come watch me perform. She was hit with something. A dart I think. I didn't see where it came from, but I tried to pull it out of her. That's what I was hit. I don't know who they were or where they took us. We were kept separate, except for when they wanted to extract information. They tried spells, offensive magic, and physical torture."

"What were they looking for?" Matthew asked, his hand smoothing over Diana's shoulder.

"Secrets. Of the future. Della was a seer. So is mum." Her eyes darkened momentarily at the mention of her mother. "If Della's magical ability was left up to mum, they would have gotten everything. I learned early on how to protect every piece of knowledge in my head, and I taught Della to do the same. She was powerful. She was five when I was born, but she saw me coming." She smiled at the memory.

"Your mother didn't?" Diana asked.

Athena shook her head. "It frustrated her that she couldn't get a vision of me, but Della could. Just before I was born, she asked dad why the baby was on fire," she said, chuckling to herself.

"On fire? Why would a baby be on..." Diana gasped. "You're a fire witch!"

Athena grinned, her eyes alight. "You see now why I didn't want to remove the binding. I didn't want to have a nightmare and burn the place down. Witchfire isn't like normal fire. Nothing can stop it."

All the vampires were shocked. Baldwin was stood to the side, leaning against the wall, staring at her with wonder, and no small amount of admiration. Elemental magic was rare. Diana herself had markers for three types, but fire wasn't one of them.

Marthe finally smiled, looking at Athena with pride. "I knew I could smell something different about you."

"What about your father?" Diana asked.

"Oh, he was human, but he had no problem with us. He actually encouraged me in my magic. Mum never cared. She had Della to share in her power. It was dad who named me. Mum named Della, although, dad had to stop her from what she really wanted to call her." She looked at Diana and made a face. "Delphi."

"As in... The Oracle at Delphi?"

Athena nodded. "I know. Ridiculous. Dad made her change it to Delphine. We just called her Della."

"Will your mother tell him where you are?"

"No. He's been dead five years. Heart failure." Athena swallowed thickly, distracting herself by slipping the pendant around her neck.

Diana looked at Matthew, trying not to let her pity show. "Do you feel strong enough for me to remove the binding?"

Athena sat up straight, her eyes almost wild with anticipation. "Yes, I think it's best. I feel strangely..."

"... heavy. As though you're being weighed down?" Diana finished, smiling in recognition.

"Yes... My skin has been irritating me. As though I can't quite get something out."

Diana was already working with her cords, murmuring to herself as she worked to free Athena from the magic binding her. The spell was complicated, deliberately so, but not the strongest. Should Athena have lost her temper, displays of uncontrolled magic would likely have happened, much as they had with Diana herself before she was unbound.

When she finished, Athena gasped, her eyes flashing in the most brilliant, bright sunset orange, her hands glowing as the fire within her sought an outlet. She lifted her hands away from the flammable wood of the table, her fingers igniting. She clenched her fists, breathing deeply to reassert her usual control, the flames eventually dying out and the glow disappearing. She sighed in relief, sagging slightly in her chair.

"Thank fuck for that..." She opened her eyes, several smirks, and one disapproving look from Ysabeau requiring an explanation. "Sorry, but being bound for a witch is like... being castrated..." She eyed Matthew and Baldwin, both of them squirming slightly.

Diana chuckled. "That was incredible. I've never heard of any other witch controlling fire like that. Not without a spell."

"Elemental magic is different. It's instinctual. Control takes time. Focus. Direction. Respect," Athena explained.

"I'd like to see more of it... When you're stronger? If that's okay?" Diana asked, her blue eyes betraying her eagerness.

Athena grinned. "I'd like that, actually. I could do with the release. Actually, I'd like a walk. Get some air. Is that okay? Is it safe?"

"Of course. This is my land. No witch would dare to set foot here," Baldwin said, his eyes fierce at the prospect of another abduction.

"Witches don't always have to set foot anywhere. Satu didn't," Matthew reminded him. Diana squirmed a little.

"Satu?!" Athena was on her feet, her eyes glowing in fury.

Diana stood, putting her hands out. "She's a witch on the congregation. She took me from the gardens. She can fly. Or rather, she could. I spellbound her months ago."

"She was there." She looked at Baldwin. "She was the one who whipped me."

Baldwin ground his teeth. "We really need to do something about that witch..."

"Get in line." Athena stated, her hands glowing again as she looked at him, her fury more than matching his own anger.

"Alright, let's take a walk. She's not going to fly in. I bound her. Besides, I can fly too." She smiled at Athena, leading her out to the gardens.

Baldwin watched them go, still feeling a mixture of amazement, curiosity, and an intense sense of pride. Such strength, that had only increased with her abilities being freed. He was so used to people backing away from his ire, but she'd met his anger and returned it.

"I'm starting to see what makes witches so strong. It's not their power. It's their spirit," he remarked to Matthew, who was smiling casually, watching Diana talk in the distance.

"That strength was always there, Baldwin. You just refused to see it until recently. Even Phillippe knew it."

Baldwin made an irritated noise, not quite willing to admit that he might have been wrong about witches. Matthew Being involved with a witch had taken some getting used to, and he still had moments where he couldn't quite believe it. Accepting all witches? That was a little much to ask of him. Perhaps in time.


	5. Dancing with Fire

**Chapter 5**

 **Dancing with Fire**

Athena and Diana walked and talked a while around the gardens inside the castle walls, then wandered out onto the wider lands and away from anything that could be harmed by large displays of elemental magic. Matthew and Baldwin went to the outer wall, both curious about the witch with fire. Diana had been able to call on fire, as she could all elemental magic, but as Goody Alsop had explained, Weavers could call on such power, but the power didn't belong to them as it did to average witches. For Athena, fire literally ran through her veins. She rarely felt cold, which was why she didn't bat an eye at walking out in her bare feet. It also meant she was close to the earth and helped to ground her.

They found a patch of land away from any trees and Athena waved a hand at Diana, indicating that she should move back.

"Further. I don't want to burn you. You won't heal from witchfire."

Diana did as asked, her witch's eye tingling at the powerful heat beginning to build within the fire witch.

Athena flexed her fingers as they ignited, first in the usual bright orange flame, then blue as she increased the heat. She changed her stance and flung her right hand up and out, creating an arc of cyclonic fire, then switched the position of her hands, circling the fire around her like a lasso. She was able to manipulate it into any shape she could think of, the flames moving around her like a dancing partner, responding to her every focus, her eyes glowing as she moved with it. Diana was entranced. She'd never seen such control over such an unpredictable element. She'd only ever been able to call on it at times of need, but this was different.

Matthew was similarly impressed. Elemental power was rare these days. Baldwin had an unreadable expression on his face. Her fire power was incredible. But, ow that her power had been freed, he could hear her blood singing. Vampires could always hear the natural rhythm of witchblood, and each witch had their own song. Diana's was melodic, and increased when she was around Matthew, as though her blood responded to his presence. Athena's blood was far more aggressive in its beat. Like a drum beat an ancient army might march to. As she wielded her fire, it strengthened in bass and speed, the cacophony almost deafening to him. He glanced at Matthew. He didn't seem to be as affected by it. Her scent was similarly strengthened, as though it had exploded upon the binding being broken.

After a few more moments, he had to retreat to Phillippe's office. The sound had decreased with some distance, but the memory of it was running around his brain, causing him to lose focus on his work. It was maddening. He tried to rationalise it to an admiration of her strength. He'd always liked strong women. Shy, quietly spoken women, who couldn't stand up for themselves, irritated him. He didn't have the patience for them, and they in turn found him too terrifying to be around. He had women working for him in New York, but they were used to his ways and knew how best to deal with him, and avoid him when necessary.

Just when he considered going back out, his phone buzzed with a text from Marcus.

We've retrieved the sister's body. It wasn't pretty. Disembowelled and decapitated. The head was in the corner of the room we found the survivor in. She must have known it was there. We'll keep it on ice until a decision is made with what to do with it. The dead witches we'll arrange to be disposed of.

Baldwin frowned. Disembowelment was an awful way to die, though he had his suspicions that decapitation was the final death knell. Which meant that Della would have been in excruciating pain for however long they left her like that. He further suspected that Athena had witnessed the entire thing. Whatever secrets these witches were trying to extract, they had resorted to brutal torture techniques.

He returned a text.

And they dare to call us animals... I'll let the others know. Athena is the survivor's name. She's a remarkably fast healer. I'm sure Matthew will fill you in.

Athena. Goddess of Wisdom and Battle Strategy. He knew her in his youth as Minerva. A Goddess he had once revered before he was turned, and was a favourite amongst most warriors. Where Aries, or Mars in the Roman Pantheon, was the God of Violent War, Athena was unrivalled in her skill at winning wars. He wondered if Athena's survival had been down to strategy, or wisdom. The look in her eyes at the mention of Satu, had been nothing short of unfettered fury. She'd met his eyes as fiercely has Matthew had when Diana had been in Satu's clutches, vowing retribution. Where Diana had spared Satu by binding her powers, he knew without even talking to Athena, that should she ever cross paths with the Finnish witch again, she would do everything she could to destroy her. He was strangely eager to see such a fight. His previous mission to take out Benjamin had stoked his warrior instincts, and with giving the Congregation responsibility to Diana, he found he longed to use his physical skills as much as his business ones.

He tried to work a little more, but curiosity drove him to seek Athena out, going back out to where Matthew still stood, Diana and Athena finally walking back to the castle, the fiery display clearly over.

"Marcus sent a text. He has the dead sister on ice. She was disembowelled and decapitated. Her head was found in the same room that Athena was kept in."

Matthew looked at Baldwin in disgust. "Christ, she probably saw it happen..."

"I thought so too."

Diana and Athena finally came within earshot. "Can you ignite your whole body?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Just... not clothed."

Diana frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, they tend to burn off. I haven't yet found anything to protect them. Besides, a naked witch walking around on fire, tends to draw a crowd," Athena replied, smirking.

They passed right under where Baldwin and Matthew were stood. That same drumming rhythm followed Athena. For a brief moment, he wanted to march after her, as though she'd become a siren for him. He shifted on his feet, then walked back towards the main building, keeping his distance. He didn't bother to look to see if Matthew had followed him, he was more concerned with quenching his thirst, going straight to his wine stores and selecting a wine at random. It was only when he poured himself a glass that he realised what he'd selected. The strongest scent was black cherries. He almost tossed the bottle at the wall, but wasting good wine wasn't his best idea. He huffed and took a drink. The taste lingered far longer than he'd like, but he wasn't about to stop now.

As he returned to the sitting room, she was sat with her feet tucked under her by the fire, Diana and Matthew sat on one of the sofas, Ysabeau opposite them. He set his bottle down next to him as he took the empty space, sipping casually, only glancing at Athena.

"Wouldn't you like to call your mother? Let her know how you're doing?" Ysabeau asked.

Athena shook her head, shifting her hips as she looked into the fire. "No point."

Diana glanced at Baldwin, wondering how to broach the subject they were clearly all thinking about.

"You don't get along?" Baldwin asked, trying to keep his voice equally as casual.

"Understatement of the century." She looked around at the enquiring eyes and sighed. "I was the witch she didn't plan for. Della was the apple of her eye. She only cared about precognitive abilities. I was proof that her power wasn't infallible. She never once got a vision about me. She had no idea what kind of witch I'd be, but Della saw everything, and she was only five. She never bonded with me. Never cared to try."

"It's not always easy for mothers to bond with their children. It's not always instinctual," Ysabeau offered.

Athena glared at her, her eyes flashing. "She breastfed Della for two years. I was bottle fed by my father. It wasn't just the lack of bond. It was the lack of care. She lived her life through Della, because Della was the stronger seer. That's all she cared about. I was nothing more than an interloper."

Baldwin listened to the anger in her voice, and the fire dancing in her eyes. Such a situation would cause most people some modicum of pain, but he wondered if Athena had long since gotten used to her lot in life with her family, that the pain had all but disappeared, replaced by resentment. He'd felt the same resentment when Matthew had been made Master of the Knights of Lazarus, even though he had been Phillippe's only surviving male. There were occasions when he still felt annoyance at the injustice of it, but he tried to remind himself often that Phillippe always knew what he was doing. His gift for strategy was just as keen as Baldwin's.

"You were close to your sister?" he asked, taking a sip.

Her eyes snapped to his, levelling the same glare at him as she had at Ysabeau. But they held something more. Anguish. The bright fire was dulled, and he could hear her heart racing as she tried to calm herself, the fire flickering in the hearth due to her close proximity.

"She was a gentle soul. She tried to play mediator between me and mum, but more often than not, she bore the brunt of mum's anger for trying to include me in things, or spending time with me. She truly blossomed when I found our flat in Cheshunt. Mum didn't want her to go, but at 23 she couldn't stop her. I was 18, and she couldn't have cared less if I'd have ended up on the street. I taught Della everything I could. I had our family grimoire. Mum didn't want it. She never bothered with spells. She spent all her time scrying and divining. Della had some mild earth power, and I tried everything I could to encourage her to develop it. She wasn't a fighter, but she was unfailingly loyal." She swallowed and took a breath.

"I watched her die. They'd hung her upside down by her ankles and were flogging her. I was tied to some sort of upright table, and they'd already bound our powers. Satu was screaming at her, demanding she tell her secrets. Della never caved, not even when Satu opened her up from navel to sternum." She took another breath, clenching her fists to control the fire threatening to spill out of her.

"I was yelling and screaming, struggling against the chains. I tried to hard to summon the fire, but it just wouldn't come. They left her for an hour, thinking the blood loss would kill her, but she was still alive, barely conscious when they returned. That's when they... with a band saw. It wasn't quick. It was..." Her voice shook, and she stood up to pace, needing to work off the adrenaline building in her system.

He wasn't good with comfort, but he had to do something, so he filled his glass and stood to hand it to her.

"Calm your nerves..." he said in explanation.

She took it and gulped it down in one, surprising him with her thirst. More surprising was the heat from her hand as their fingers had touched. He hadn't been that close to her since her powers had been restored, and the heat of her was startling, even for a warmblood.

"Thanks. Sorry. I hope you have more. I might need it." She looked at Baldwin, her eyes starting to glow with that same rage as earlier. "I'm going to kill that witch. I don't give a fuck about the Congregation, about killing my ow kind! She already betrayed that. Her days are numbered."

Baldwin couldn't help the smirk that spread across his lips. She'd drawn herself to her full height, and he realised for the first time, just how tall she really was. She was barely more than two inches shy of six feet, her chest heaving as she breathed, her fingers clutching his glass tightly enough that he wondered if it might shatter. In that moment he saw the warrior in her.


	6. Burning Wood

**Chapter 6**

 **Burning Wood**

Baldwin had refilled her glass twice in the last hour, and had sent for another bottle to be brought up. It had certainly done the trick in calming her down. She was sat back by the fire on a sofa cushion and was demonstrating to everyone her pointe abilities with her skinny feet, occasionally grumbling when her ankles didn't bend as smoothly as she hoped.

"You're a ballet dancer?" Ysabeau asked, always one to appreciate the finer things in life.

"Of a sort. I don't get many parts. Too tall. Standing over 6'2" with blocks isn't something they want next to a male dancer. Dad insisted of me learning every dance style I could. Contemporary, lyrical, jazz, acrobatic, ballet... I only get ballet parts when I'm not dancing with men. Often leaves me out of practice. It led to a lot of burned blocks in my teen years." She wriggled her toes, allowing them to ignite in a glowing simmer.

"How come you got into dancing? It's not a usual witch career," Diana asked.

"My dad. He thought it would help me focus my emotions and allow things to flow. I had trouble controlling the fire when I was young. I lost count of the pieces of clothing and furniture I destroyed. Made mum angry, which just made things worse."

"I can understand needing something as an outlet. I started rowing when I went to school in Oxford. I also took up running and yoga. Anything to give focus and drain off all that pent up emotion," Diana added.

"Dancing makes you strong and supple. I was a natural at yoga, which a lot of dancers take up to help build stamina and patience. There's no expectation from the teacher in yoga, so it's really relaxing for us. I haven't done it for a while though," Athena replied, pulling her legs into a full lotus.

Diana and Athena compared poses for a while until it was time for her and Matthew to return to Les Revenants and their children. Ysabeau disappeared to say goodbye and Baldwin excused himself to retrieve a third bottle of wine, leaving Athena to settle on a sofa alone.

He took his time selecting a bottle, trying to pick one that wouldn't remind him of her scent. Could he be feeling attraction? No. It was nonsense. He tolerated Diana because Matthew had picked her, and she'd given birth to his niece and nephew. He didn't like witches. Not after Phillippe. But in reality, he knew that using Phillippe as an excuse was as weak as water. She was certainly physically attractive. He'd never dated a witch in his entire life. He'd dated many vampires, and the occasional human. Daemons were too unpredictable for him, and were often afraid of him. The only daemon who had ever stood up to him was Agatha on the Congregation, a fact that outwardly irritated him, but secretly he was impressed by. He appreciated a strong woman.

By the time he'd made a selection and returned, Athena was asleep on the sofa, breathing slowly and deeply. He looked at her for a while, then decided that she'd be more comfortable back in bed. He picked her up much as he had when he'd rescued her, carrying her back to Louisa's tower without jostling her. He was struck once again by the warmth of her skin. He'd expected that she'd notice how cool his hands were, but she didn't stir as he placed her down on the bed, pulling the sheets over her. He stood watching her again, that drumming rhythm of her blood lulling him to sit beside her, watching how her eyes flickered under her pale lids.

He had no idea how long he sat there watching her sleep, but he found his hand moving to brush her cheek, a gentle gasp escaping her lips as her face moved towards his hand, her blood rushing to the surface as her bloodsong increased in intensity a moment. Before he could rationally contemplate what he was doing, he leant down and inhaled her scent deeply, the urge to growl almost overwhelming him.

He bolted upright, his mind reeling from what he had done. This was insane! He must be craving human blood. He needed to go into the village and find a willing donor. Maybe then he'd stop behaving like a teenager.

He left her to sleep and went out to hunt, stopping in the village for a donor or two. Fully sated, he returned to Sept-Tours, collapsing into Phillippe's chair and pulling up his email. He had meetings upon meetings scheduled for later in the week, and he decided that going back to New York might help him get his head in order. Some normality couldn't hurt.

By the time Athena had awoken, Baldwin was already in his jet back to New York. He spent the flight checking over the details of several deals he'd been working on, calculating the financials, and arranging further meetings. His subordinates had been nothing if not efficient in arranging everything around his schedule, his absence barely registering to most in regards to the running of his company. In reality, he could run his company from anywhere in the world.

Upon arriving at JFK, his driver was waiting to take him to his penthouse in Manhattan. A fierce suit would convey the right amount of masculinity and commanding presence. Nothing pinstripe. In truth, he didn't own a pinstripe suit. Far too stiff and old fashioned. Something in a midnight blue with the waistcoat to match, a burgundy silk tie, and a polished pair of Oxfords.

Barely an two hours later, he strode into his office building, numerous workers scattering out of his way, and his pretty redhead secretary handing him an Americano coffee, and his messages. He thanked her, ignoring the fluttering of her eyelashes. Normally, he gently encouraged such behaviour. It kept her loyal and eager to do whatever he needed her to do at work. But somehow it didn't feel right at this moment.

He kicked his office door shut and went through his messages. Mostly work related. He sat and drank his coffee, looking over the details of his first meeting. A small company acquisition. Family-owned. They were in trouble with debtors, and had been all over America looking for investors. Baldwin of course had swooped in to buy the company from under them, the profit alone from breaking it up and selling it off would more than offset any debt.

During the meeting the owners had done everything they could to plead their case, asking for money to be invested rather than bought out. Emotional manipulation had been employed, the eldest owner talking incessantly about passing the company down to his son, and so on and so forth... Baldwin had yelled at him to stop being such a snivelling weasel. That the reason his company was in trouble was because of the bad decisions he'd made over the years with shares that had plummeted through the floor, losing millions for the shareholders.

The owners had eventually admitted defeat, taking the offered bailout to pay off their debt, and signed over the company to Baldwin. Mission accomplished. Normally, he would feel a rush of satisfied power. But today, he only felt restless, irritated, and a little more empty than usual.

Before he could dwell any longer, Marcus called him.

"Marcus. Is there a problem?"

"We disposed of the witches and cleaned out the tunnels. I just wanted to check something though, did you punch the one you killed?"

Baldwin frowned. "No. Just a snapped neck. Why?"

"That's what I thought, and that's what I did too... It's just odd... One of them had a broken nose and a bruised eye socket, and not from after death. The other had several broken metatarsals on his right hand, and bruising to the skin. Again, from before death. Do you think perhaps we weren't the first to try a rescue?"

Baldwin contemplated the notion a few moments, then smiled. "No, I don't think anyone else knew where she was being held."

"Well, whoever did it was trying to do some damage. I suppose they could have fought amongst themselves," Marcus mused.

"Perhaps. Is that all?"

"Oh, yes. You're back in New York?"

"Of course. Rescuing witches in distress isn't exactly my full time job." Baldwin tried to sound put out by the prospect.

"I guess not. If I learn anything else, I'll let you know." Marcus hung up.

Baldwin dropped his phone on the desk and smiled. His mind was instantly on Athena. Those injuries had to be her work. Even in the week he'd spent in her presence, he'd quickly recognised that she wasn't the type to go down quietly. She might have been spellbound, but he could certainly imagine her lashing out in any way she could. He wanted to ask her about it. But, he was in New York, and she was at Sept-Tours. He couldn't exactly call her. Maybe he'd return in a week. See how she was doing and reassure her that the witches were gone. Not that he truly believed that she needed it. Perhaps the excuse of stopping by her place in England to check on things and make sure no witches had gone snooping, as well as retrieving some more of her things whilst she continued to recover, would be more believable. He wouldn't admit to himself why he really wanted to see her place.


	7. Of Hearth and Heat

**Chapter 7**

 **Of Hearth and Heat**

Baldwin had managed to persuade Marcus to give him the keys to Athena's flat, using the excuse that he had meetings in London before going back to Sept-Tours with any news. It gave him the perfect opportunity to look at her personal space and get a better sense of who she was as a person. The woman he'd briefly gotten to know at Sept-Tours was remarkably resilient and head-strong, courageous and spirited. To have survived such an ordeal, not just physically, but mentally, was nothing short of miraculous.

He took one of the de Clermont cars to her place in Cheshunt, finding it ironic that she lived in an old Roman town, listed in the Doomsday Book as Cestrehunt. He passed the beautiful Church of St. Mary, realising as he drove just why she liked living in a suburb, rather than in London itself. With London only 12 miles away, it was perfectly placed, if a little too quiet for his tastes. He was so used to living in big cities, he wasn't sure how he'd fair in such a place.

He pulled into the modest carpark of a large Edwardian detached house, with double-fronted windows and a large white door. It had been converted into four flats, and Athena's was on the first floor to the right. It was larger than he'd imagined, having two modest bedrooms, a living area, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. He could smell the lingering scent of Marcus, but Athena's scent overpowered it, even though she hadn't set foot inside for a month. He knew by smell which room was hers, removing his coat and looking around. He spied her ballet shoes hanging off the mirror of her dressing table, feeling the urge to touch them. He could see the compression her feet had made on the blocks, moulded to her shape. He picked them up and looked for a bag, finding one in her wardrobe, more of her cherry scent hitting him as he ran his hand along her shirts and skirts.

He selected some items, picturing what she would look like in them, knowing he was overstepping a boundary by dressing her without her permission, even if it was only mentally. Feeling a little guilty about it, he pulled open some drawers, plucking what looked like aerobics clothing. Lycra items, cotton vests, and some strange baggy cotton pullovers. It was the top drawer that had him still his hand. Underwear. He swallowed and tried not to breathe as he raced to shove some in the bag, resisting the urge to lift some to his nose. He shoved the drawer shut and dumped the bag on her bed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to regain control of himself. He was beginning to regret this decision. It was becoming an obsession, and he hadn't even seen it coming. Was this how Matthew had felt when he met Diana? Utterly overwhelmed by her? It was maddening. Even without the threat of the Covenant, it felt like dangerous territory.

He idly rummaged around her dressing table, putting a few bits of make-up into the bag, not that he thought she needed it, just that she might like some. When he moved to her bedside table, he got a shock. Of course, she was a warm blooded woman, so it was understandable that she would have items of a personal nature next to her bed. It was blue, moderately thick, and longer than he'd expected. It had numerous buttons, and a curious appendage with ears. He was certain that it had been cleaned, but he could smell her scent drifting up from the drawer. Much more musky, and so uniquely her.

He couldn't touch it. It was one step too far. Touching it felt like a violation of her personal privacy, and even if she couldn't smell his scent in the way he could smell hers, something told him that she'd know if he'd been touching her personal things.

He slammed the drawer shut and opened the bottom drawer, spotting an old, worn, leather tome. Possibly centuries old. He surmised that this was her family's grimoire. He didn't open it as he put it into her bag. If anyone did come snooping for her things, they wouldn't get her spells. It annoyed him that Marcus hadn't had the presence of mind to do the same when he had been here.

Next, was the bathroom. He gathered all manner of toiletries he thought she might appreciate, including some menstrual products. He could only hope that Marcus had done the same, but just in case he hadn't, Baldwin gathered all that was there.

Just as he was about to shut the bathroom door, he spotted a pair of cotton pyjamas. Leaning in, he could smell they were hers. They'd been worn, and the scent was stronger still. He balled up the vest and pressed his nose into it, momentarily giving in to his craving, inhaling deeply. He almost went cross-eyed from the force of it. His senses were on fire, and he suddenly felt consumed by her, despite that fact that she wasn't even in the country.

He pulled them away from his face and shoved them deep into the bag, taking a few moments to clear his head. Perhaps he'd send the bag with Marcus. He'd hate it, but he'd do it. But, even as he thought that, he refused to be a coward, and he wasn't entirely content to have another man deliver her things to her, even if that man was already mated to fellow vampire, Phoebe Taylor.

There was nothing for it. He had to go back. He wouldn't skulk off and pretend he'd never met her. He'd never fled from a difficult time in more than two millennia, and he wasn't about to start now.

He had one last look around for other things to take, including a pair of boots, then locked up and left, driving all the way to the airport where the de Clermont jet would be waiting for him. He didn't bother to let anyone know he was coming. Sept-Tours was his home. He'd come and go as he pleased, when he pleased.

Athena had spent most of the following day after her night of wine, in bed. She knew it had been a mistake so soon after being rescued, but she'd needed something to just take her mind off things. For the most part, she had been coping far better than everyone had expected, but as she healed, she found that her mind drifted to the possibilities she thought she'd missed to escape. Logically, she knew it was just her mind's way of working through everything, but as the week progressed, she found herself jolting awake after dreaming of being back in the tunnels.

By the end of the week, she was sick of the disruption. Marthe had of course noticed, and put together an herbal concoction to hopefully help her to drift into a deeper sleep. It was hit and miss, and it tasted terrible. Aside from peppermint, she'd never been a fan of herbal teas. She found them bitter. Pond scum, her father often remarked in regards to herbal teas. She'd smiled at the remembrance.

She found herself spending more time out in the gardens of the large castle, walking, dancing, and practicing yoga. On the day Baldwin returned, something she hadn't been expecting, she was dancing on one of the lawns. Mostly improvised, she was combining elements of both contemporary, lyrical, and ballet styles, moving far more gracefully than she had been capable of two weeks ago.

Baldwin pulled up and paused at the faint sound of music. It wasn't coming from the castle. It was far too modern for Ysabeau's tastes, and he knew Matthew and Diana weren't here. He'd have smelled them.

He got out and grabbed the hold-all he'd brought for Athena, following he sound to its source. As he passed under the archway towards the open gardens, he stopped at what he saw, dropping the bag down at his feet. Graceful didn't quite seem an adequate enough word for how she moved. After her description of how it helped her power to flow, he suddenly understood why. Watching her was rather like watching trees swaying in a gentle wind. There was nothing clunky or forceful about it. Every movement was so precisely followed by another that each step of her bare feet barely disturbed the grass beneath them.

She made a graceful pirouette, but stopped abruptly when she saw him standing there. Shocked out of his staring, he took the bag over to her.

"Didn't mean to disturb you. I brought more of your things. I was in London for meetings, and thought I'd check on your place. No one has been there so far, so it's possible they know you won't be at home," he rambled, feeling stupid for over explaining.

"Oh, thanks. I had wondered if anyone would try to break in." She took the bag and gave it a shake. It was far heavier than the one Marcus had brought her.

Baldwin took in her form. She was flushed from her dancing, her eyes bright and a little wild. So pale and green, and that fire he'd seen there a few times when she'd been angry, seemed to be present permanently. It suited her. She seemed to be energised by her exertion, which surprised him. He'd expected her to be tired. She was wearing black leggings, a vest, and a strange fluttery skirt he'd seen ballet dancers wear. He looked at her feet and frowned.

"It's October. Aren't you cold?" he asked, pointing at her feet.

She followed his finger, curling her toes in. "No. The fire keeps me warm most of the time, unless I'm exhausted. Besides, I like to feel the earth. It's a witch thing," she responded, shrugging. "What about you? Don't you get cold?"

"No. Vampires naturally run cold anyway. We wear coats and jackets to keep up appearances."

She chuckled. "Ditto. You should see me in a blizzard. Better than any snow plough."

He found the image that such a comment conjured to be remarkably distracting. Even without having seen her in snow, he could already picture her walking barefoot down a street, melting the snow in her wake.

He cleared his throat and nodded briefly. "I'm glad you're doing better. I'll leave you to sort through your things." He didn't wait for a response, deciding that he needed some distance to get his thoughts in order.

It was ridiculous. He'd been back in her presence for only a few minutes, and he was already struggling to keep his mind disciplined. He went straight to Phillippe's study, yanking off his coat and setting up his laptop, intending to occupy his mind with work, but without even realising it, he found himself standing by the small window looking out over the garden. He could see her rummage around in the bag, appraising his selections. He saw her smile at the grimoire. He was glad for that.

He pulled his eyes away as she resumed her dancing, grumbling and dragging a hand through his hair. It made no sense to him. He wasn't related to Matthew. He couldn't possibly be suffering the same issues Matthew did. He'd often wondered if Matthew's attraction to Diana had been borne out of his blood rage. Baldwin didn't have that excuse. Perhaps it was out of pity. He'd rescued her from certain death, and she'd witnessed the brutal killing of her sister. Yes. Pity. That was the only explanation. It had to be. The alternative scared him more than he wanted to contemplate.


	8. Evening Smoulder

**Chapter 8**

 **Evening Smoulder**

Baldwin worked through the rest of the day and well into the night. He refused to get up to see if she was still outside. He'd let himself be distracted far too much recently. New York hadn't been far enough. But, in scattered moments, her wild eyes flashed through his mind and he couldn't focus on anything but her. He wondered if this was what it was like to be enthralled. Was he under a spell? No. He was sure Diana would have seen it if he was, and honestly, he didn't think Athena would ever do such a thing, given she herself had been bound when she was captured.

To make matters worse, being so near to her was starting to have other affects, especially after finding her intimate toy. On the flight over, his mind had drifted to imagining her naked. He'd seen her naked only the once, and it had been just after he'd rescued her. He hadn't been thinking anything inappropriate at the time, and until now, it hadn't even crossed his mind to. The image had appeared so suddenly, he hadn't had time to contemplate it as his body responded eagerly. He'd slipped into the bathroom to get himself under control, adjusting himself more times than he could remember. He wasn't going to succumb to relieving himself on the plane, but it had left him in a worse mood.

The last thing he needed now, was to get wood in his father's old office, whilst thinking about a witch he'd saved. He was starting to think he should have taken his Assistant up on her very obvious offer. At least it would have proved as something of a physical release.

Up in her borrowed room, Athena had no idea of the predicament Baldwin found himself in. She was fast asleep, but not as peacefully as she had been in the first week or so. Now that her body was mostly healed, the bad dreams had started up with a vengeance. She had been expecting them, but this night would be the worst one yet.

She'd shifted around so much, the sheets were tangled around her legs, her head occasionally turning from side to side as images flashed through her unconscious mind. She mumbled incoherently, her hands flicking, fingers glowing faintly as her anxiety rose.

Baldwin looked up from his laptop at the faint mumbling, frowning. It wasn't loud enough for him to fully discern where it was coming from, so he went back to work.

Athena mumbled again, louder this time, tossing over to one side, her hand gripping the pillow. A particularly nasty image of her sister flashed across her mind, the torture and subsequent death that followed was enough to have her bolt awake, screaming her sister's name.

Baldwin was out of his chair and up to her room before she'd finished screaming. He was by the bed in a second, but kept his distance as she struggled to control the flames that had erupted over her hands. She was panting as she clenched her hands into tight fists, her eyes squeezed shut as she regained control. The fire died out and she dropped her head into her hands, shifting to kick the crumpled sheets away.

Baldwin moved closer now that it was safe, sitting beside her. "Perhaps we can find something to make you sleep. A deeper sleep would mean no dreams."

Athena looked at him and shook her head. "No. It would only be delaying things. I was bound to have bad dreams. It's not exactly something you forget."

He nodded, feeling a bit of a loss at what to do. "Can I do anything? Maybe some tea?"

"No, just talk to me. Help me think of something else." She dragged her hands through her hair. "What is you do?"

He hadn't expected the question, but he wasn't opposed to talk about his work. "I own and run an Investment Banking company in New York. It's been around or more than a century. It makes the Fortune 500 list regularly."

Athena smiled. She could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke. "So, you're a bit like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman?"

Baldwin frowned. He didn't fully understand the comparison, though he was aware of the film.

"You know, he would buy companies in trouble, and sell off the pieces for profit? The hired hooker notwithstanding," she explained, smirking.

Baldwin let out a laugh. "Well, we do more than that. Investment being the key word. But, yes. We do buy companies that are in trouble of becoming bankrupt."

"What did you do before then?"

"I've been involved in the finances of this family for centuries. But, I was a warrior. A soldier." He inclined his head. "I still am. It's what I was trained for even as a human."

"You were a soldier as a human?"

"I was a Roman Legionary. A Commander." It was unconscious, but he sat up straighter, his chest puffing a little.

"Sword or spear?" she teased.

"Both. But, I'm better with a sword. Close combat."

"How come you chose this life? How did it come about? If you don't mind me asking..."

Baldwin took a breath. He'd never regretted his choice, but so few had ever asked him about it.

"Phillippe had seen me fight. Seen me lead an army. Most turnings are borne out of necessity. Very few choose this life like I did, but permission must always be gained, even in desperate times. I was fortunate that Phillippe saw something of himself in me. He took me aside one day and made the offer, explaining what I would gain from it, and how I would be able to command as I chose and who I chose, for eternity. Most mortals wouldn't pass up the chance to live forever and do the thing they love."

Athena listened to him, both surprised and glad that he hadn't been on the verge of death when he was turned. "Do you miss anything? From your human life?"

"There's honestly very little to miss. Life was hard. Sickness was rife, and life expectancy was less than half what it is today for mortals."

"Did you ever turn anyone?" she asked.

"I have a daughter in Japan. She lives an independent life there. She's technically a de Clermont from my blood, but she prefers not to have to deal with our affairs."

"You know, I never understood the animosity between the species. The Covenant might have been drawn up under the illusion of safety, but all it has done is keep us all separate and vulnerable. It bred hatred and violence, particularly between vampires and witches. We have enough to deal with from the humans. We really shouldn't be fighting each other."

Baldwin considered this. Only a few years ago, he'd vehemently disagree. But, Diana had changed everything, and given the difficulty that the species were having in growing their population, perhaps inclusion would benefit them all. Even Phillippe had known that. He'd accepted Diana without hesitation, and had ensured she would be firmly ensconced within the family, even without him here to confirm it.

"You may be right. So much blood has been spilled on both sides, and not just from each other, but from our own. Knowing that it is possible for witches and vampires to have natural children, and for daemons to be born to witches, inclusion could be our future."

"The Congregation won't allow it without a fight. Covenant or not, they don't seem to like change."

"No, they don't. I used to be one of them," he admitted.

"I won't hold it against you," she smirked.

Baldwin grinned, rather enjoying the playfulness. "It would be too late to do so. I gave my key to Diana. There's always a de Clermont on the Congregation."

Athena nodded and fought back a yawn.

"I should let you get some more sleep. Scream if you need anything," he said, grinning.

Athena grabbed his arm before he could stand up. "I never did thank you... For getting me out..." She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Baldwin was frozen for several moments, the warmth of her lips lingering on his cool skin. He swallowed and nodded, standing up fully and smoothing his hands over his shirt needlessly.

"It was no trouble," he said, then turned and left before he could fully contemplate what had happened.

Athena watched him leave, wondering if she'd overstepped a boundary. He didn't seem angry by it, but his demeanour had changed. She tried not to dwell on it as she shuffled down back under the sheets.


	9. Of Fire and Fury

**Chapter 9**

 **Of Fire and Fury**

It had been three weeks since her rescue, and Athena was starting to feel restless. She hadn't been home, and she hadn't even set foot outside of the castle grounds. The few times she had tried, either Ysabeau, Marthe, or Baldwin had stopped her. The last time, Baldwin had grabbed her arm and she'd yelled at him, threatening to ignite her arm where he was holding it. He'd glared at her furiously, yanking his hand away and stalking off. She'd felt a little bad about her reaction, but she was still feeling claustrophobic when she returned to the sitting room, Diana and Matthew sitting at the table, talking to Ysabeau about the twins.

Baldwin was sat on the sofa, reading a financial paper, ignoring everyone. He didn't look up when she approached him.

"Sorry..." she said quietly, trying not to appear too sheepish.

Baldwin looked up at her slowly, his eyes cold.

"I don't like not being able to go where I choose." She shrugged her shoulders. "It's not in the nature of fire to be so controlled."

He folded his paper and stood up. "You realise this is all for you benefit?"

Her eyes flashed a moment, her irritation rising, but she took a breath and tried to calm down. "I do appreciate that, but I can't stay here forever. I have a life. Work. Dance. I still haven't been home. My sister is still on ice. I need to bury her, preferably before mum gets hold of her."

"Until we know anything more about who took you and why, it simply isn't safe," he replied.

"Then let me help. Let me do something. What about the two witches you found with me? I know they weren't very powerful, they were just there to keep me from escaping."

Baldwin looked at her with interest. "Had you tried? Before we found you?"

"Oh yes. Twice. The first time, I pretended to be unconscious when one of them came to drag me to where they were keeping Della. He head butted him, breaking his nose. He used a binding spell in retaliation to hold me in place so he could take a swing at my face." She tapped her eye where the bruise had previously been.

"The second time, I tried brute force. The other witch tried to subdue me, and covered my mouth as I was yelling. I bit him. Pretty sure I broke his hand," she recounted, smirking. "That's when Satu returned. The three of them dragged me to where Della was hanging upside down. They bound me and smashed my ankles. No escaping after that."

Diana looked horrified at her matter-of-fact explanation of her experiences, and Matthew had looked repeatedly at Diana, concerned that she might be triggered. Baldwin's expression was almost unreadable. Deeply thoughtful, as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

Athena paced a moment. "I had heard other voices down there, but I never saw anyone else. I don't know who darted us." She let out a frustrated breath. "If only Della hadn't been in the way... I'd have gotten the dart first... Maybe they'd have left her alone."

"You can't think like that. You can't know that it would have happened any differently. Sometimes fate has other ideas," Diana tried to reassure.

"Screw fate! Why did Della have to be directly in the w..." Athena froze at the realisation. "She was directly in the way... She moved in the way... She wasn't even meant to be there... She was supposed to meet me at the theatre after some errands, but she'd changed her mind at the last minute. She moved... Just before the dart hit..." Her eyes were wild and she was pacing erratically, her hands moving as she tried to make sense of it all.

She stopped and looked at them all in turn. "Oh gods... She saw it coming! She knew what was going to happen! She got in the way! To save me! I don't think they wanted her at all!" Her voice had increased in pitch and her heart was racing.

Baldwin had stepped closer, worried she was about to become overwhelmed, but before he could reach her, her hands ignited, her eyes glowing orange as her fury began to rise, her breathing heavy as her mind reeled at the prospect that her sister might simply been collateral damage.

When Baldwin stepped closer, she backed up, holding her arms away, her sleeves starting to burn as the flames licked higher.

"Dont! Keep away!" she cried, then quickly angled passed them all, running out towards the gardens and then out into the larger grounds, not stopping until she was a safe distance from the castle.

She dropped to her knees and screeched in rage, her fire exploding from her, surrounding her in an orange and blue cyclone, the grass beneath her burning away as she let her power vent. The others had gathered a short distance away, watching in both fascination and fear. None of them had ever seen such a display of fire power, and for the first time, Diana could appreciate why Athena had chosen to stay bound for the first week or so. Such power could destroy the castle and everyone in it.

After several minutes, the fire slowly died down, the cyclone reducing around her, her shape now visible to the others as she dropped forward onto her hands, panting hard. She felt a combination of anguish and fury. Fury won out as Baldwin approached. She looked up at him, her eyes still glowing as she sat back on her ankles.

"I'm going to kill them. I'm going to hunt them down, whoever the others are, and kill them." Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, and Baldwin had to stop himself from smiling in admiration.

This was not a woman who broke down in times of crisis. She blazed her way through them, scorching everything she touched. He was almost eager to see her fight. Nothing warmed his blood more than a battle.

Athena looked over to Diana, Matthew, and Ysabeau. The vampires were still regarding her curiously, but Diana had started up the hill towards the boundary of de Clermont land. As she looked to where Diana was headed to, her witch's eye opened of its own accord, and she could feel the presence of another witch. She recognised it instantly as Satu.

By now, the vampires had all smelled her presence, Matthew and Ysabeau had already joined Diana at the boundary. Athena jumped to her feet and tried to run after them, only to be grabbed by Baldwin.

"LET GO!" she screamed, her fingers glowing.

"Wait! Think about this! She deserves to get what's coming to her, but you have to do it right. Think, Athena. Think of why you were so named," he said, holding her fast, making her look at him.

She swallowed heavily, trying to think about his words. "Goddess of Wisdom."

"And of Battle Strategy. Be strategic about this. She won't expect it."

Athena was moving from foot to foot, focusing on his tie pin, thinking about her best move. Then she stopped ad looked into his eyes, a small, cold, smile erupting across her lips.

"I have a plan."

Baldwin hesitated in letting her go.

"Trust me," she said softly, and he slowly removed his hands, letting her head towards the others.

He followed closely, keeping his eyes on her. No matter what happened, he wasn't about to let anything happen to her. Not this time.

Satu was screaming angrily at Diana to unbind her, her fingers clenching and unclenching as she tried to will her power to life. Nothing happened.

"UNBIND ME!" she screamed again.

"Yes, Diana. Unbind her. Let's at least make this a fair fight," Athena said, her eyes never leaving Satu.

She moved across the boundary, standing several feet away from Satu, letting her fingers glow.

"You wanted to know my power. Know my secrets. Now is your chance."

Diana looked at Athena. "I don't think that's wise."

"Nonsense. Unless, you don't think you can match my fire power, Satu?"

"I'LL BURN YOU TO ASH!" she screeched. Her fury was familiar. She'd spent her time torturing her and Della purely out of anger, and now she knew why. Being spellbound had broken her.

"Maybe you will." She looked to Diana and nodded. "Do it."

Diana sighed and slowly worked her cords in sequence, performing the unbinding, Satu gasping in relief as she felt her magic flow through her. She grinned maniacally at Athena, igniting her own hands. She made a show of flicking them forward, sending a continuous stream of fire at Athena, who matched it with a precise one of her own.

The heat of the fire caused the other to step back slightly, even as the stream from Satu was beginning to gain strength, forcing Athena backwards as she attempted to hold it off.

She gasped as she strained, holding her hands close to her face to avoid being hit by Satu's fire. Satu was cackling, moving forward as her fire forced Athena onto her right knee, leaning back away from the flames starting to lick their way around her.

Baldwin made to rush to her aid, but Diana used her cords to stop him. "Not yet," she whispered.

Just as it seemed that Satu would completely overpower Athena, she leant back on her bended knee, making a smooth flicking motion with her right hand and sending a summoned tree root up from the ground and through Satu's chest. Satu's fire died instantly, and a look of pure shock had frozen on her face. She'd known about Athena's fire abilities, but had no idea about her ties with the earth. Neither did the others.

"Someone get her memories!" Athena yelled, snapping them out of their shock.

Baldwin had flashed to grasp Satu's hair, yanking her head back and biting down swiftly, his eyes on Athena as she held the root in place. Neither broke contact as Satu's blood rushed across his tongue, the jumble of discordant memories following, including everything that Satu had done to Athena and her sister. It would take time to sort through them, but they might now be able to piece together who had made the decision to come after her.

When he'd drained her, he pulled back, letting go of her hair as drops of blood ran down his chin. Athena moved her hand, the tree root disappearing back into the ground as Satu dropped, dead. Her eyes hadn't left Baldwin as she moved to him, lifting a finger to capture the stray drops. The gold of his amber eyes was heightened as he took her hand, moving her finger into his mouth. Her breath hitched slightly, as his heart pulsed strongly in response.

Diana and Matthew exchanged a look. Matthew had heard Baldwin's pulse quicken. He found it curious, but didn't mention it. Baldwin had dropped Athena's hand and had stepped back.

Athena cleared her throat. "Did you get them all?"

Baldwin nodded. "I think so. It's a lot to sort through, they came through in a jumble."

Athena nodded and looked down at Satu. "What do we do with her?"

Ysabeau stepped forward. "Marthe and I will get rid of her. Not to worry," she said, smiling as she went off in search of her friend.

"I had no idea you were an earth witch!" Diana exclaimed.

"No one did. I don't know why, but I always knew I had to keep it close." She looked to Baldwin. "Told you I had a plan," she smirked.

Baldwin was still stunned by the display. He was struggling to organise his thoughts and feelings, and now that he had seen just how capable she was during a fight, all of his conflicted feelings had surged to the surface. He needed time to process.

"It was an effective plan, I'll grant you that." He cleared his throat. "I need to organise all this. Make some notes." It was a feeble excuse to get some distance, but one he would take.

Athena watched him go, feeling strangely conflicted herself. The first week or so, she'd been so consumed with healing, she hadn't put much thought to the man who had rescued her. But, after three weeks, he was still here. He'd been there when she'd had a nightmare. He'd been to her home and gotten her possessions with thought, even bringing her the family grimoire. It made no sense. Diana had spoken about him whilst he was in New York, telling her of his hatred for witches, and of his need to control everyone and everything. She said that he'd relaxed slightly after his niece and nephew were born, but that he still ran the family as though he was the lord and commander and must be obeyed.

Why was he being so thoughtful with her? Why did she like it?


	10. Raging Inferno

**Chapter 10**

 **Raging Inferno**

Baldwin rushed back to Phillippe's office, Satu's memories swimming around his brain like a tidal wave, though the ones most prominent were those of Athena. He wasn't sure if it was because they were the most recent, or simply because Satu had been facing Athena when she died. Athena had been watching him as he fed. Stared straight into his eyes. She hadn't been disgusted. She'd been eager for him to do it. That fierceness.

He dropped his hands to the desk, hunching over to brace on them, trying desperately to organise both his thoughts and the images he'd taken.

"Are you alright?"

The voice of Matthew startled him. It wasn't often he could be surprised, even by another of his own.

"It's a lot to take in. She was dying and desperate. It all came in a jumble," Baldwin answered, standing up straight.

"Is there anything that stands out?"

Baldwin took a breath. How could he put into words what he'd seen of Athena whilst she was being tortured?

"I've never known anyone to take such abuse and not be broken by it. She tried to escape. Twice. Without any powers. The first time, they beat her. Bruised her face. Broke her fingers. The second time, they smashed her ankles. They did it in front of her sister, and she screamed, but it wasn't out of fear. She never once showed fear. She was furious. I can see the look in her eyes as Satu watched those men do it. But it was Satu who whipped her. Out of anger. She didn't scream then. She didn't make a sound. Barely flinched. It made Satu angrier."

Matthew listened carefully, and watched Baldwin's face. He'd rarely seen his quick tempered brother be so fascinated by anyone, let alone a witch. He was utterly in awe of Athena's strength.

"She has a strong spirit. I'd be curious to know her lineage," Matthew commented.

"She had no hope of escape after they broke her ankles, and what they did to her sister... Such brutality is rare these days. People usually crack with less. Did Marcus find her sister's head in the room they were holding Athena?"

Matthew frowned. "I believe so, why?"

Baldwin nodded. "Satu threw it in there with Athena, hoping the presence of it would be enough to make her talk."

"But she didn't."

"No. If anything, I think it strengthened her resolve. I remember the look in her eyes when we found her. She wasn't frightened. She was wary, as thought she was calculating whether we would be a threat, but she wasn't afraid. Defiance. It was pure defiance." Baldwin paced over to the window and slammed a hand into the wall, the bricks trembling and scattering old dust about. "Gods, Matthew, why can't I get her out of my head?"

"You've rarely ever met a woman who didn't back down to anything. She's rather like you. Hot-headed," Matthew said, smirking at the comparison even as Baldwin glared at him.

Baldwin straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "I think I'll go back to London. See if anything helps with the other memories."

He strode past Matthew and up to his rooms, gathering his hold-all and slinging clothes into it, trying to ignore the images of Athena in various states of distress and anger. As he forced the images away, they were replaced by those of her dancing. Watching her move had been mesmerising. He needed to get some distance, and this time for longer.

Athena had been searching for him for a while, hoping to ask him about what he'd seen from Satu. She needed something, anything. No matter how small. She finally tracked him down to what she assumed was his rooms. She hadn't seen them before, but then, it was so easy to get lost in this huge place amongst the various corridors and twisting staircases.

She found him packing a leather designer hold-all, his breathing faster than she'd become used from the vampires. Of course, she'd had no need to make her presence known, he'd both heard and smelled her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, turning to face her.

He had discarded his jacket, but had kept on his bronze tie and silk black waistcoat. She found it difficult to move her eyes to his.

"I was going to ask the same of you."

"Yes, I'm fine. Just sorting through things." He tapped his head. "Memories are tricky. Most of the ones I've been able to discern are of your capture. They seemed to be the freshest."

"What about any others? Did you see any other witches she might have ben talking to?" she asked, looking at him, her eyes a little desperate.

Baldwin shook his head. "Nothing yet. I fear I may not have gotten them all. Her heart stopped whilst I was feeding. I had no idea you could do that." He flicked his hand, imitating what she'd done with the tree root.

"You were worried I'd be hurt?"

"She did threaten to turn you to ash," he reminded her.

Athena chuckled. "Yes, she did. It was a futile threat. I was in no danger from her fire. She's not a fire witch. She was like Diana. She could summon fire, but it was not part of her."

"How does that translate to you being in no danger?"

Athena looked at him. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" he asked, confused.

"Fire witches are fire proof."

She moved over to a wall sconce and placed her hand over the flickering flame, letting it curl around her skin. When she moved her had away, she turned it over, showing him the palm. He stepped forward to grasp it, examining it closely. The pale skin of her hand was utterly unblemished. She smiled at him as he looked in her eyes, shock evident.

"You were never in any danger of her power."

"Not of her fire power, no. I knew that she'd fall for wanting to see what I could do with mine. It's the one power she already knew I had, though I don't know why. She'd even said once or twice whilst I was held that she was tempted to unbind me, just to see it. She had one of the others mark me with the fire symbol."

Athena turned around and lifted up the back of her vest, showing him the small triangular symbol etched into her back, just above her tailbone.

Baldwin touched his fingers to it. It wasn't raised like a burn might be, but more like a tattoo, unnaturally white against her skin, as though this part of her had ever once seen daylight.

"Did it hurt?" he asked.

"No more than the whipping."

She turned and put her vest in place, looking around the room for the first time. It was filled with artefacts from centuries past. Swords, shields, and even an old Roman Pilum, bent from use. She wondered if he'd kept it from his human days.

As she looked at a small tapestry, she spotted an old handwritten declaration nestled between to cabinets. It was in old French so she had no idea what it was declaring. However, what struck her about it wasn't the age, but the long list of names. She spotted the name Baldwin amongst them.

"Lucius Sigeric Benoit Christophe Baldwin de Clermont," she read out, stumbling a little over Sigeric. "Are they all your names?

"Of course," he stated, as though it could never be otherwise.

"All five?" she said, chuckling.

"It seems excessive to you."

"Just a bit. I don't even have a middle name."

"It's necessary for a vampire to have multiple names. We can't just use the same name over the centuries, because people get suspicious," he explained.

She read them out again, then stopped and repeated one.

"Benoit... Ben..." she said, smiling as she looked back at him.

Baldwin considered her nickname. He'd only used Benoit a handful of times, and never had allowed anyone to shorten it to Ben. But, the look on her face, and the gentle familiarity it engendered had him smiling back.

"It's not the worst name..." he offered.

Athena's eyes dropped to his bronze tie. She was struck by how much it complimented his copper hair and golden brown eyes. She reached up to touch it, smoothing her fingers over the silk fabric, giving it a gentle tug to straighten it. He was always impeccably put together. Even grubbing around in the dirty tunnels of the London Underground when he'd found her, he'd still looked ready for a meeting as Parliament. Nothing he'd seen of her or her experiences had fazed him. He'd been considerate in his own straight-laced way. She'd never known such consideration away from her sister and her father. The few partners she'd had in the past had found her far too wilful and headstrong to stay with her. She would never be meek and mild.

She'd gotten so used to men only wanting one thing, and even then they often felt intimidated by her knowledge of her own body and responsibility for her own pleasure. But, the heat in Baldwin's eyes spoke volumes.

"This colour suits you..." she said softly, smoothing her fingers over his tie to where it disappeared into his waistcoat.

She was close enough that she could smell his scent. "You smell like bonfire night... I suddenly want treacle toffee..." she glanced back into his eyes.

She gave his tie a firm yank, going up onto her toes so she could press her lips to his. It wasn't quite the reaction she was expecting from him as he'd frozen in place. She pulled back slightly to look back into his eyes and was startled by the intensity of the gold in them. It almost glowed as the light hit them.

Before she could speak, Baldwin had responded with a kiss of his own, his strong arms going around her waist to pull her into him tightly. She flung her arm around his neck, gripping his shirt in a vice grip as she responded just as eagerly. Where the heat difference between them might have been uncomfortable for an average warm blood, Athena enjoyed the sensation of his cool hands and mouth. She found it thrilling as his hand found its way under her vest, stroking over her back, avoiding the newly formed scars from the whipping.

Baldwin had lost all sense of propriety as he sought to plunder her soft mouth, turning them swiftly so he could press her against the nearby bedpost. She hooked her leg up over his hip as her fingers worked to undo his waistcoat as he moved to attack her neck, running his nose along her skin, breathing in her scent deeply, then nibbling just below her ear, grinning at the groan she let out.

Athena waved her hand idly at the door, the heavy wood slamming shut with a thud, followed by a click of the lock. She was already working on removing his tie now that his waistcoat had fallen from his broad shoulders. She flung it across the room and reached for the top button of his shirt.

"Is this expensive?" she whispered against his lips.

"Always," he uttered back, his hands stroking over her behind, pulling her hard against him.

"Shame..." she said, threading her fingers through the gaps, pulling swiftly to rip it open, sending buttons flying everywhere.

Where normally he would be enraged by someone damaging his clothes, he was utterly aroused by her play at dominance. He growled as her fingers stroked over his chest, slipping through the dark hair covering his skin. He let the shirt slip off, then decided that turnabout was fair play as he took hold of her vest and tore it open, a large hand reaching to cup her breast, the nipple hardening.

As he teased her breast, she slipped her hands down to undo his belt, flicking open the button and reaching for the zip. As she slipped a hand over him, he grunted against her lips, his hips rocking as she slowly stroked, gasping as his erection twitched. She massaged his balls, enjoying how grunted softly.

"I want you inside me..." she muttered into his mouth.

Baldwin growled at her forwardness, shifting so he could reach the gusset of her pants, ripping them in two as his own pants slipped off his hips. He slipped his fingers through the soft hair, letting one slip between her lips, testing her arousal as she moaned. She was hot and slick, and he was eager to plunder more than her mouth as he grasped himself, angling his body so he could press into her. She cried out as he filled her, her arms wrapping around his neck as she shifted to lock her ankles around his hips.

He moved slowly and deeply, his mouth moving over her neck and back to her lips. She felt wondrous. So hot and tightly slick around him, he felt her rock against him as her hands slid through his hair gripping occasionally. But, he was surprised when he felt her slide a hand down between them, the rhythmic stroking of her fingers against her clit. He wouldn't have that.

He moved his hand to pull hers away, using his own to give her the stimulation she needed, his fingers far faster than hers, they practically vibrated. She cried out from the intensity, moving to kiss him firmly, groaning with each thrust of his hips. He moved so precisely, angling in just the right way that she shuddered with each brush past her g-spot.

Along with the hand doing magical things to her clit, his other hand was braced between her back and the bedpost, ensuring that it wouldn't rub against her scars. When the sensation became too much, she resorted to tugging on his hair and nibbling on his lips, moaning constantly as her body began to shudder, her core twitching as she gripped him erratically.

He could both feel and smell her pleasure building, enflaming his own desire as he sought to feel her topple over into blissful oblivion. With a few more purposeful thrusts and his finger still vibrating over her clit, she suddenly went rigid, her orgasm crashing through her as she cried out repeatedly, clenching hard around him, almost immobilising him as his own climax followed, a loud groan erupting in his throat.

He held her tightly as they both came down from their pleasure, pressing gentle kisses to her neck. He shifted them so he could lay her down on the bed, her legs falling open as she flopped boneless onto the sheets. He climbed on next to her, kicking off his shoes. He was utterly relaxed and more satisfied than he had been in years.

As he turned to see how Athena was, he saw her sleeping. He pulled the sheets over her and looked up at the old canopy. This was not part of the plan. He was supposed to be leaving, not having sex with her. He definitely preferred the latter.


	11. Igniting the Flare

**Chapter 11**

 **Igniting the Flare**

Baldwin had no idea how long he'd lain still next to Athena, who was still fast asleep and curled up on her side facing him. He turned over to face her, her scent now mingled with his and the musky scent of their previous antics. He leant down to inhale, brushing his nose against the warm skin of her neck. Without warning, his cock twitched. He huffed in exasperation that he could be so easily affected by her mere presence, and rolled out of bed, discarding his ripped shirt, and replacing it with another.

He left her sleeping after starting a fire in his long disused fireplace, and went to Philippe's study. He made no attempt to answer emails he knew would be piling up. He stood and stared out of the window, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this predicament. It wasn't a lack of sex driving him, as he had a number of lovers he could call upon if the mood struck him. He'd had plenty of girlfriends over the years, both human and vampire. Had she bewitched him? Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't true.

"Christ, Baldwin, you reek of sex," Matthew exclaimed from the doorway. "When did you find time to visit an old flame?"

Baldwin gave him a look, and Matthew instantly understood.

"Ah. I thought I recognised her scent. So, you finally gave in?"

"It's not like that at all. It was a mistake. I know better than to give in to such base feelings." He was irritated.

"That's utter crap and you know it. It's no longer a crime, you realise?" Matthew stated.

"It's got fuck all to do with the Congregation!" Baldwin yelled. "She's an injured woman. She's far too stubborn and reckless, and..."

"She's perfect for you. And you're afraid. You've never mated with anyone. Not human, not vampire. Who is to say you weren't meant to mate with a witch?"

"I'm not you, Matthew. She isn't Diana," Baldwin stated.

"Of course not. But with the Covenant forbidding such a match for over a millennia, who is to say more vampires and witches wouldn't have gotten together? I don't believe for a second that keeping the species apart was ever the right thing to do. Our survival is reliant on intermingling."

"Yes, Yes. So you've told me since the Covenant was repealed. That doesn't mean we should all go looking for witch mates."

"You didn't go looking for her. Fate led you to her," Matthew replied.

"Fate? You think fate had anything to do with this? The only reason I went with Diana was because she begged me to. Verin wasn't available, and she's the only one with tracking skills equal to mine." Baldwin was trying to rationalise his involvement, but even he knew it was a stretch.

"You're the believer in the old Gods. In oracles and foresight. Athena's sister and mother were both seers. We have no way of knowing what they saw in regards to all this. Actually, her mother has said precious little. I highly doubt she hasn't seen anything."

"Do you suspect something?" Baldwin asked.

"I'm not sure. It's just strange that a seer as powerful as Delphine, according to both Athena, and her mother, would find herself in such a situation in the first place. Such a kidnapping is carefully planned. She'd have seen it coming, if she really was so powerful."

"Maybe she hoped she could change the outcome. It wouldn't be the first time a seer tried to change their future."

"It's too specific to be a random act of madness from Satu, spellbound or not. Binding can make a witch do crazy things to get herself unbound, but what she did to Delphine and Athena seemed... personal. Like she was with Diana. It was obsessive..." Matthew mused.

"You think she was ordered to do it? She doesn't seem the type to take orders. Even Peter Knox couldn't keep her under control."

"I think there's more to this than meets the eye. And I think Athena is still in danger."

"That I do agree with. She needs to stay here, though I doubt she'll be happy with it," Baldwin replied with a sigh.

"We can't force her to stay, Baldwin," Matthew warned.

"I realise that. But maybe she'll agree to it if she knows it's the safest option."

"Safety of self doesn't seem to be her primary concern." Matthew replied, giving Baldwin a look.

"Not. She'd fearless. Dangerously so. As impressive as her power is, she could have been hurt. Satu was like Diana. Fortunately for Athena, she didn't know how to wield her weaver's abilities as well as Diana does."

"You're worried about her," Matthew realised.

"I'm worried about what this could mean for us. Once again, we're drawn into witches problems. We're not the saviours of all creature kind!" Baldwin yelled, in a vain attempt to deflect.

"Maybe we should be! Our survival depends on our openess and acceptance of others. And your acceptance that you are clearly attracted to a witch!"

Baldwin's head whipped around so fast, it would have given a warm blood whiplash.

"I can hear the rush of blood when you speak of her. How your heart rate increases, and your breathing deepens."

Baldwin said nothing and turned back to the window, glowering quietly. He regretted not going back to New York when he'd had the chance earlier. He didn't have to check to see Matthew leave. He was frustrated and confused. He wasn't used to being so out of control of his body or his mind. He was 2000 years old! He was behaving like a lusty teenager. Even as he tried to shake thoughts of her, the look on her face as she'd climaxed had him groaning all over again.

Athena had awoken to an empty bed beside her, the sheets pulled over her partially naked body. The room smelled of their pleasure, so much so even she could smell it. She wondered where he'd gone, and further wondered how she'd get back to her room with half-torn clothing. She pulled one of the sheets around herself and tiptoed out of his room. It was pointless. It wasn't as though she wouldn't be heard with three or more vampires about the place.

As it was, she managed to get back to her temporary domain without encountering anyone. The fire had been lit in the fireplace though, and her bed was made. Marthe. The perpetual vampire housekeeper. Athena stripped off and debated having a shower. But something stopped her. She could still smell his woody scent on her skin. Did vampires get all protective over such things? She decided to dress and go looking for him. He seemed to disappear right when she needed to talk to him. She wondered if he regretted his actions. She didn't think of him as someone who made rash decisions and she thought that he was struggling to reconcile what he'd done. It hadn't exactly been planned, but it had felt the right response to the tightly charged moment.

It didn't take long to find him in a study, still standing by the window, looking out over the same gardens he'd watched her dance in. She new he'd know she was there, but he didn't move a muscle.

Baldwin for his part was trying desperately to look unmoved by the presence, standing taut with his arms folded across his barrel chest, his muscles twitching from the effort not to turn and pull her into his embrace.

Athena smiled softly. She couldn't discern all the tiny muscle twitches, but she could see his jaw working. She approached him slowly, giving him time to react, not that he needed much if he decided to flee. She placed her hands lightly on his shoulder blades, smoothing her hands up over his shoulders and pressing her nose into the crook of his hairline, inhaling gently. She was becoming remarkably fond of his unique scent.

She chuckled softly. "I still want treacle toffee..."

Baldwin didn't respond. He was gritting his teeth. This was maddening! The scent of her, along with his scent that he could clearly smell, was still lingering on her skin, and the musky scent of their pleasure had utterly filled the room. Instinctively, he wanted to do nothing more than cover her in his scent all over again. He bit back a groan as her hands had moved from his shoulders to his arms, sliding under them and over his pecs. Her mouth was now at the nape of his neck pressing little kisses to the cool skin.

He let his hands slide over hers as they caressed his chest, fingers dipping occasionally between the buttons. His eyes slipped closed as he tried in vain to ignore the warmth against his neck. She was pressed bodily against his back, her leg brushing against his thigh.

When he could take no more, he spun around, delighting in the gasp she uttered as he embraced her, his hands pulling on her waist to bring her into him. He chuckled against her lips when she shoved against his chest, trying to push him back against the wall. He obliged by stepping backwards, his hands going to her behind, smoothing and caressing though her skirt.

She attacked his mouth with the same passion she had employed earlier, her hands threading though his copper locks, tugging a little before she dropped her hands, sliding them down his chest, slipping them firmly against his growing erection.

He grunted into her mouth, a little startled by her decisive nature. Given it had only been several hours, he was surprised by her appetite as she firmly massaged him. He was ever so tempted to turn them so he could pin her to the wall, but rushing wouldn't help his earlier confliction, and he didn't want to flee and be a coward.

He wrestled her hand away from his crotch and pushed on her shoulder to force her to step back. She was frowning in irritation, her jade eyes glowing softly as she breathed heavily.

"Why did you stop?" she demanded, her voice a little rough. "I know you want it..." she whispered, moving to reach for his lips again.

Baldwin chuckled and sidestepped out of her reach. "Want isn't the problem."

"We're not breaking any rules. The Covenant isn't an issue anymore."

"It's not the Covenant."

"Then what is it?" she asked, considering him a moment. "Is it because I'm a witch?"

"No," he answered immediately. "Athena, you went through a traumatic situation. You lost your sister. I don't want to be some temporary comfort, only for you to regret it later."

"For fuck's sake! I'm not made of glass! You won't break me!"

He resisted the urge to point out that he could very well break her. He'd broken many vampires in his time. A warm blood would be child's play for a vampire.

"I don't think you're made of glass." He sight. "Vampires don't feel the need to rush. We should know each other better. Please understand, I don't regret what happened. I would hope you don't."

"Of course I don't regret it."

He smirked. "Attraction aside, you don't know anything about me. Wouldn't it be so terrible to discover what each other likes outside of the bedroom?"

"Well, we didn't exactly make it to the bed," she replied, grinning.

"Well. Needs must..." he shrugged.

She folded her arms. "I wasn't complaining. So, what do you want to know?"

"Walk and talk?" he indicated at the door, waiting for her to lead the way.

He followed Athena out into the gardens, trying to single out a question from the myriad of thoughts spiralling around his head.

"I'm curious as to why you decided on dancing for a career."

"It came naturally. It's hard to explain. I could feel the fire flowing through my veins every time I danced as a child, and it responded almost as though it was hypnotised into submission. Fire doesn't like to be contained, but giving it flow and rhythm helps it to... simmer. It keeps it from becoming a raging inferno. Unless I want it to."

"It's an unusual vocation for a witch. But, I understand the appeal."

"I've never regretted what I do. Except on the night we were taken. If Della hadn't met me, she wouldn't have been there. She always insisted on seeing me when I performed, no matter the medium. Mum hated it," she explained, her tone turning bitter.

"She never came to see you?"

"Never. She wasn't interested."

"She sounds like a terrible mother. No offense," he added.

"None taken. She is. She's ridden the fame of her precognitive abilities for decades. But the truth is, she isn't that powerful. Her visions were almost always forced, and never that accurate. She held on to Della tightly because she knew that Della's visions were always right. She could see things so far in advance sometimes. She would draw pictures of things and people she saw. She kept them all in a ledger and away from mum. I worked a spell when I was a child so she wouldn't succumb to visions in her sleep. She'd asked um to do it, but she refused. Honestly, I don't think she knew how to do it."

"Such power in foresight is rare these days. No wonder no one questioned your other's powers," he observed.

"It runs in the family. All the way back to Salem, and likely beyond."

Baldwin took her arm and stopped them dead, surprise marring his features. "You're a descendent of a Salem witch?"

"Yes, of Sarah Solart."

Baldwin frowned. "I don't recall that name. Are you sure?"

"Sarah Good," she explained. "Solart was her maiden name. Her only surviving daughter, Dorothy, took it when she moved out of the country. She didn't want to be associated with Salem. She was the first seer in the family, so far as we know. She'd seen what would happen to her if she took this path or that path, so she changed her fate to survive. We kept the name. Most Salem survivors did. Like Diana."

"I had no idea."

"Almost no one does. Everyone knows the Good name. They don't know Solart."

"A wise precaution. Was your sister as... hot-headed as you?" he asked, smirking.

Athena chuckled, wiggling her glowing fingers as him. "No. She was quiet. Gentle. Kind. She found it difficult to stand up to mum when she demanded more visions. As soon as I was old enough to earn a wage to pay rent elsewhere, I moved us out. Mum tried to stop me taking Della, but she had no chance against my power. I don't think Della had ever felt so free." She shook her head. "I was supposed to protect her."

"I think you were right. I think she protected you. It's possible she knew what would happen."

"I tried so hard to will the fire... My limbs glowed, but no flame erupted..." She took a ragged breath.

"It doesn't do to dwell on things we can't change. I dwelled for too long on my father's death. I became bitter and cold. Well, more so than normal, if you asked Matthew."

"What happened to him?"

"He was tortured by witches working for the Nazis during the war. They drained him and broke his spirit." He looked as her honestly. "I hated your kind after he died."

"I'm sorry you lost him. I'd probably feel the same way if vampires had killed Della."

"It took a long time, but I had to come to terms with the fact that not all witches are the same."

"No. We're far more content with murdering each other," she spat.

"We will find out who it was who sent Satu after you," he tried to reassure.

Athena nodded and set off walking again. "What about you? All those sharp suits must be for some reason," she asked.

"I work in New York, in investments. Most of the de Clermont money is thanks to me over the centuries. I wield a pen more than a sword these days."

"When do you need to use a sword? It's hard to imagine any situation needing one these days."

"It's not often. Usually only during conflict. I used a sword to decapitate Vlad the Impaler."

Athena stared at him. "Wait, Dracula? He was real? He was a vampire?"

"Of course. Stoker didn't get it all wrong," he replied, inclining his head.

"How come you killed him?"

"He was hunting and torturing humans. Such thing are forbidden. It risks exposure to humans. We only feed from humans who give consent to it."

"So, you do feed on humans?"

"Occasionally. In New York, there was no end of willing donors. And we hunt animals when human blood isn't available."

"Is there anything you miss? From being human?" she asked, curious if he missed food.

Baldwin thought a moment. He rarely thought about his human past. He'd had no need to. "No really. Food wasn't what it is now, and sickness was rife. I was happy to be turned. I've never regretted it."

"Have you ever known a witch to be turned?"

"Not personally, no. I think it's rare. A witch would lose her power if she was turned, rather like Ysabeau lost her power of foresight," he explained.

"Ysabeau was a seer?" Athena said in surprise.

"Of a sort. She wasn't a witch, but humans have been known to have mild gifts. Most wouldn't want to give up that power."

Athena had to agree. She'd hated being spellbound. She could fully understand why witches went mad when their power was taken away. They'd walked around the gardens fully and ended up back where they'd started. Ysabeau was waiting for them.

"Your phone was ringing," she stated to Baldwin. "The Congregation are involved now."

"Involved how?" he asked.

"It seems your other has made a complaint that you're keeping your sister's body from her," she said to Athena.

"Crap. I knew she wouldn't let it go. What's going to happen?"

"Diana has left for Venice. She's the de Clermont on the Congregation, so she it going to try some damage control."

Athena dragged a hand over her face. "I need to go home. Mum will start snooping around if I don't. She doesn't have a key to the flat, but that won't keep her out."

"No, it's still not safe," Baldwin replied.

"I'm not going to hide away! What if it takes years to discover who was after us? I won't put my life on hold just in case someone comes after me again! I'm going home," she stated with finality.

Baldwin huffed. Damned stubbornness. "Alright. I'll go with you. I have a place in London I can use. We'll leave tomorrow first thing."

Athena nodded. She was content to go alone, but she'd had a feeling that he wouldn't like it. She wouldn't be hidden away like a stolen trinket. Whoever had taken them couldn't possibly do worse, and she would take her grimoire with her to study some protective spells. If she was surprised again, she wanted to be armed with countermeasures of the witch variety.


	12. A Familiar Accelerant

**Chapter 12**

 **A Familiar Accelerant**

Athena had to marvel as the efficiency of the de Clermonts. Their trip to London was arranged before they had even sat down to eat that evening. This time, Athena had showered and changed. She'd noticed the brief scowl that flitted across Baldwin's face when he could no longer smell his scent on her, but given his need to slow down, she was just respecting is request, at least as she saw it. But, if she was honest, she rather liked keeping him on his toes. She knew he was used to keeping all aspects of his life tightly under his command, which included everyone in it. She was one aspect he would never be able to control, but she had a feeling that he would do his best to try.

As he sat down at the head of the table, he took a sip of wine. "The plane will be waiting for us at 7am."

Athena stared at him. "7am? Don't you people sleep?" she huffed.

"Not really. I thought you'd want to get there as soon as possible?"

"It's across the bloody channel! It'll barely take an hour. You couldn't have arranged it for 9am? Or later?"

Baldwin huffed and pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen to text a change in their plans. Athena smirked slightly, and Ysabeau gave a slight nod of her head in approval. She loved nothing more than to see Baldwin's carefully laid plans come crashing down.

"Done. 9am." He stashed away his phone, ignoring the smug look on Athena's face.

"Did the Congregation say anything else except that they would be investigating? I'm surprised that they didn't demand my testimony," Athena said to Ysabeau.

"They said very little. They rarely show all of their cards. It also depends on what your mother said to them to make them act."

"Oh, I'm sure she said only what she thought she needed to reveal. The fact that I survived and Della didn't, is likely making her bitter," Athena said, popping a small piece of venison into her mouth.

"Is there really nothing that can be done to repair the relationship between you and your mother?" Ysabeau asked.

Athena shook her head. "No. There's never been a relationship to repair. I wasn't raised by her, I was merely a lodger in the family home. An inconvenience. Della was important to her because she was her link to the future. I don't think she ever saw either of us as her children. Della was a magical extension of herself. I was a tumour she wanted nothing more than to cut out. I can only thank the Gods that my father didn't die before Della and escaped."

"How was her relationship with your father? They must have loved each other," Ysabeau mused.

"Once perhaps. When Della was small. Me being born changed everything. I think mum resented that he willingly took on the responsibility to raise me when she wouldn't. I don't think she ever forgave me for burning her on the way out," she said, smirking.

Ysabeau stared at her. "You... burned her... whilst being born?"

"I wasn't exactly in full control of my power at a few seconds old! Besides, she could have take some protective measures after Della saw that I would be on fire. I wasn't on fire for long, luckily. Dad knew instantly that keeping me happy helped me to keep the flames at bay, and Della could always see when I would likely have an outburst."

"Your fire responds to anger," Ysabeau noted.

"Uncontrolled fire responds to anger." She gave them both a grin, her eyes alighting. "I might be hot-headed, but control is the first thing a witch learns. Power in uncontrolled hands is dangerous to everyone."

"It's true that witchfire cannot be doused? Only the witch herself can extinguish the fire?" Baldwin asked.

Athena nodded, taking a sip of wine. She was becoming rather fond of Baldwin's bold choices. She hadn't liked Matthews. "Yes, that's true. I think only a weaver could extinguish witchfire, in lieu of a fire witch."

"You must realise how rare such power is?" he asked.

"Of course I do. I'm still not sure where it comes from. The Solart line doesn't have witchfire in its lineage. Seers and earth witches mainly. I suppose it's possible it comes from my father, but he was human, and five years dead. As far as I know, he doesn't have any family."

"Earth witch abilities are considered the most useful, are they not? It allows you to not only master spells and potions, but gives you dominion over the natural world?"

"Useful is a point of view. I think practical is probably a better descriptor. Spells and potions are a witch's bread and butter, like mild telekinesis." She held out her hand and focussed on the wine decanter, the crystal receptacle sliding across the wood and into her hand. "Being able to fly can be useful. Controlling water and wind so you can control the weather can be useful. I don't have those abilities, any more than I have psychic abilities."

Baldwin watched as the crystal found its way into her hand. He'd not seen her use such magic, and had only vaguely heard his tower door slam shut when they were otherwise engaged. He hadn't considered that most witches could summon items to them in such a basic fashion, but it made sense. What intrigued him more, was how her bloodsong increased in its rhythm, much as it had when she was dancing. Her body, her soul, everything about her came alive when she was doing what came naturally. Her magic, her movement, her fiery spirit, it was all part of who she was. He swallowed hard and masked his rising desire with a deep drink of his wine.

Once again, he was doubting if staying around her was the best idea, given how she made him feel. No, not made him. No matter how out of control of himself he felt around her, it wasn't forced. But it was frustrating. He'd had hundreds of beautiful women in his life, even loved a few of them. Desire wasn't uncommon for him, and he was glad to accept offers when he felt the need to. He tried to rationalise that this was no different, that he simply desired her. But then, if this was true, why did he care to slow down? Why couldn't he simply enjoy their attraction for as long as it lasted? She had said it herself, she wasn't going to break simply because they decided that mutual pleasure was a momentary benefit to them. She certainly wanted him as much as he did her.

The evening drew on, and Ysabeau found herself intrigued with Athena's dancing career, asking about her training and experiences, even delighting in some demonstrations of her skill. Baldwin remained quiet, finishing off the rest of the wine and sending Marthe for more. He tried not to watch Athena as she danced in front of the main fireplace, but she moved so fluidly and gracefully, that he couldn't help but be as mesmerised as Ysabeau seemed to be. She was glowing. A shimmering yellow light as bright as the sun itself, her eyes alight with her inner fire. He wanted to immerse himself in her, even if it meant he would be burned. He tried desperately to will his body back under his control, trying to ignore the looks he was getting from Marthe at the increase in his pulse, and he was grateful that the table was hiding the visible interest threatening to burst through his trousers.

Wanting to give Athena something to dance to, Ysabeau set the phonogram going, and Baldwin used the moment to flee the room and back to his tower. Distance only helped so much, so he busied himself with packing and repacking a bag. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd done so, and he'd torn up one of his best shirts in frustration. He was tempted to go hunting, but he wasn't hungry enough to warrant it, knowing it would only serve to fuel his animal need.

He knew what he needed. No doubt, the rest of the household knew what he needed. Matthew had known what he needed when they'd argued about it. So why couldn't he accept it? He knew she wanted him, she'd accepted it so readily and so quickly, and she certainly presented herself as someone who wasn't afraid of her sexual needs, given what he'd found in her bedside drawer. He wasn't afraid of a woman who knew her own body, it rather increased his want. If he was honest, he rather hated having to teach a woman about her own body. He was perfectly skilled to do so, but he felt it rather denoted a lack of willing on his partner's part, to take responsibility for her own needs. Unlike the plastic and rubber of Athena's bedroom drawer, he wasn't a vampire sex aid.

After an hour of brooding and clothes sorting, he'd retired to a chair in front of the fire, and was reading through some old journals, trying to absorb himself in the past, when things were infinitely both less and more complicated in equal measure.

By this time, Athena had gone up to bed, momentarily lingering in the corridor to Baldwin's room as she considered going to see him. Remembering his words about slowing down, she grudgingly went to her own rooms, though her body protested as she turned in for the night.

By the morning, both of them had wished that they had left at 7am. Athena had been awake at 6am, feeling just as frustrated as she had when she went to bed. Baldwin faired no better, and was in a foul mood when he finally showed his face at breakfast, Marthe filling his wine glass partly with blood more than half a dozen times.

Athena was quiet when she appeared, ignoring Baldwin's glowering presence as he tries his hardest to look engrossed in the financial section of the morning paper. She sat at the opposite end of the table and Marthe brought her smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on toast, and a freshly squeezed orange juice to wash it down with. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife, and Marthe didn't stand around to attempt to lighten the mood.

Athena ate in silence, trying to ignore the crinkle of paper as Baldwin flipped the pages, making no effort to be quiet, not that he normally did anyway.

Athena huffed. "So. Place in London. Is there anywhere you don't have a place?"

"No. I have a residence in almost every major financial city. My current place of residence is in New York."

"Must be nice to be a millionaire," she quipped.

Baldwin looked at her over his paper. "Millionaire? I wouldn't get out of bed for a million. Try trillionaire."

Athena stared at him, her eggs forgotten. "That's disgusting."

"That's vampire life. It's not all mine, you realise. It is split into various trusts, funds, and companies, otherwise my name would be all over the Forbes list for wealthiest man on the planet. Hardly keeping a low profile away from humans."

She tossed her napkin onto her plate and stood up. He sounded far too smug for her early morning frustration. "I'm going to finish packing."

"We'll be leaving here at 8:30," he called after her.

She'd heard him but didn't respond. She actually didn't need to pack, but she did need to get away from his frosty self-righteous ego. She spent the time before leaving reading the grimoire, looking at various protective spells. They were small, designed only to protect small holdings and individuals, and only temporary, but they would work for individual encounters. She'd been assured that the last time her flat was checked, no one had been inside except Marcus and Baldwin, but something told her that it wouldn't remain so.

They took Baldwin's private helicopter to the airport, where his business credentials sped them through to the de Clermont jet. The flight was quiet, and Athena spent it looking through more spells, whilst Baldwin tapped away on a laptop. They still hadn't spoken much, and the tension from Sept-Tours had followed them. Athena wondered if this was what he meant by slowing down. She didn't have his superior senses, but if she could tell he was frustrated, he must surely know she was equally so.

As it was, he did indeed know she was frustrated. He'd smelled it on her when she'd come down for breakfast. He hadn't smelled pleasure, so he knew she hadn't taken care of her frustration. He didn't know whether to be glad for it, or annoyed that he couldn't smell just how delicious she was after a climax, when all her pheromones exploded and her witch blood increased in its strength. He longed to experience it again, and though despite his insistence on slowing things down, he was honestly struggling to remember why.

Fortunately, the plane landing interrupted any more thoughts of regret. They were whisked through customs and into the private car waiting for them, thanks again to Baldwin's connections. It didn't take long to reach Cheshunt, and Athena was opening the door just as the car stopped, looking around at the place as though she expected to be attacked in broad daylight. It was a little paranoid, but given how she was taken the first time, she didn't want to become complacent.

Baldwin was right behind her when she opened the front door, checking the lock to see if it had been picked. It hadn't. At least, it wasn't obvious that it might have been. She went up the main stairs and to her flat on the top floor, putting her key in the flat door lock, turning it quietly and pushing the door gently open.

Just as she was about to step inside, Baldwin threw a hand out and blocked her way. "Wait..." he whispered, his nostrils flaring. "Someone is here..." he stated, looking at her. "I can smell them... And hear a faint heart..."

"What does it smell like?"

"Vanilla... Grapefruit..." he whispered back, wrinkling his nose at the odd combination.

Athena sighed and pushed on his arm to let her in. "Fuck... It's mum..."

Baldwin relented after a few moments, but kept close to her as she searched first the living area, her room, and the kitchen, then made her way to Della's room, kicking the door open, startling the waif-like woman who was rummaging through draws.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Athena yelled, Baldwin glaring at the woman from behind her.

Charlotte stared back, stunned at the interruption, but then shot the most disgusted look she could at both Athena and Baldwin.

"How could you bring that THING here?!" Charlotte screeched.

Behind Athena, Baldwin growled at being called a thing. He was used to the sneering looks from the witches on the Congregation, but he never tolerated being called a thing.

"Don't you dare call him that! He saved my life!"

Baldwin was momentarily shocked at her defence of him. She had already thanked him once for rescuing her, but this was the first time that she'd openly acknowledged that he'd saved her life. All previous frustration was forgotten, and he stepped closer to her, preparing to defend her, should he need to.

"Disgusting! Associating with vampires! And you would allow him here to defile your sister's room!" Charlotte spat.

"It's none of your business who I associate with! And you have no right to be here! You don't even have a key! How the fuck did you get in?" Athena shouted back.

"You're not the only witch in this family," Charlotte sneered, a thick file in her right hand.

"Witch. Pathetic excuse for a witch! A lock picking spell? That's your greatest magic? What use were you when we needed you?! Do you have any idea what was done to us? How long we were held?" Her eyes were beginning to glow in anger, then she noticed the file. "Give that to me. NOW!"

Charlotte sneered and held the file to her chest, stepping back. Athena let out a growl of her own, and even Baldwin was impressed by the ferocity she was able to summon. She then outstretched her right hand and summoned the file, her telekinetic abilities stronger than her mother's weak hold on the file. It yanked out of Charlotte's grasp and into Athena's hand.

"GIVE THAT BACK!" Charlotte screeched, moving forward.

She stopped instantly when Athena ignited her left hand in warning. "Don't ever touch her things again. You have no right over anything of hers!"

"I am her mother!"

"Mother?! You never cared about her, you only cared about what she could do! What next vision she might have! Demanding more!"

"You know nothing of our bond! She was mine!" Charlotte cried, becoming the very definition of unstable as her hands shook.

"Yours? She was flesh and blood! She wasn't your personal scrying bowl! If she'd never have had a vision, you wouldn't have given a crap about her!"

"I was the only one who understood the burden of such power!"

"You don't have any power! You were jealous. That's why you wanted her close. You wanted her to make up for your failings. But I got her away from you so she could live her life freely, and you hated it!" Athena shouted.

Baldwin was starting to understand just why Athena disliked her mother. She was a horrid excuse for a warm blood, witch or not. He sensed no empathy or sorrow in her, and she certainly wasn't grateful to see that one of her daughters had survived.

"It's you, isn't it?! You're the one keeping her body from me!"

Baldwin stepped around to stand by Athena's side. "Actually, I'll have you know that you ensured that her body wouldn't be released, by reporting it as a murder to the Congregation. Her body won't be released until the investigation is over. It also means that all of her personal effects are to be placed in storage as evidence."

Her things... Athena clutched the file tighter, but then realised that the file might not have been all her mother had tried to lift. She held a hand up and quickly chanted a spell she'd been using to find lost items for years.

"Totum occultatum revelare!"

Baldwin recognised the Latin. It was simple, and roughly translated to 'reveal all hidden'. Charlotte's clothes immediately started to shake and jingle as pieces of jewellery and trinkets flew out, landing on the floor and the bed, followed lastly by Della's will, which flew directly into Athena's hand. She stared at it a moment, then placed it inside the file.

"Get out! You're trespassing," Athena growled.

For a moment, it seemed as though she might continue to protest, but the presence of an angry, burly vampire made her think twice. She glared one last time at them both, and then scurried out, causing Baldwin to wrinkle his nose at her strange scent as it wafted past his nose.

Athena sat heavily on Della's bed, pulling out the will. She'd had no idea that her sister had ever made one. "I'm going to have to move... She won't keep away for long. She doesn't have the power to take me on, but that won't stop her from trying to rally one of the covens to her."

"Where will you go?" he asked, moving to pick up the various items that had flown out of Charlotte's clothing.

"I don't know. I can't afford a place in London itself. Can't really afford this place on my own."

"I could take you back to Sept-Tours. There's plenty of room for you there, and I think Marthe rather likes having someone to cook for," Baldwin offered.

"No. I can't live there," she said, shaking her head.

"You don't like it?"

"It's not a question of like. It's not my home. I don't have my life there. My life is here. I work in London. I won't be chased away."

Baldwin thought for a moment, then decided on something, leaving the room to use his phone. Athena looked around the room. She hadn't been in here since before they were both taken. It still looked exactly as it had, save for the few drawers that her mother had tried to ransack. Leaving this place would feel like running away, but she had to be practical. She couldn't hold off an entire coven if they did decide to seek her out.


End file.
